


Mona Lisa

by Dragoodle



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-09-20
Updated: 2009-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 26,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24232438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoodle/pseuds/Dragoodle
Summary: The first time Tifa Lockhart and Aeris Gainsborough meet is not in Don Corneo's Mansion. A contrived re-imagining of Final Fantasy VII.Originally published in 2009 and now abandoned.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. To Have

This isn't a love story, in fact, quite the opposite. So I apologize if you came here looking for "Happy Endings" and love at first sight, or some drunken ballad.

Because I don't have it.

I don't have a lot, and these days, I find it's a much shorter list to explain what _I do_ have.

I have green eyes, some people say: "emerald", but I wouldn't know. I've never seen an emerald. I have brown hair, same people say: "golden", but still, I don't know; was never born into the _position_ to make _that_ comparison.

I have flowers, but that doesn't make me one, and quite frankly, I don't appreciate having an occupation as a nickname because I _have_ a name. I have a nice name: Aeris.

Aeris Gainsborough.

And down here, nice names are hard to come by, so I won't take mine for granted. I try not to take anything for granted, but it happens to all of us.

My 'not'-love story starts "down here", in the mud and grim of the Midgarian Slums. And most assume that it would end down here as well, but truth be told, I have no idea where (or when) it'll end.

But I know it's not a love story, and that I'm not some fairy princess, and she's not some damsel in distress, and we're not in love. I know I'm not telling you this because I'm thinking rationally, but because she's taking something from me, and only you, yes, _you_ , can give it back.

'Cause I don't have much, but _I do_ have morals, and I'd like to keep them.

So, I'm sorry. _So, honestly and truthfully sorry_ , and I know it doesn't ease the hurt like it doesn't ease my guilt, but I know that sometimes things need to be said, even when no one needs to hear them.

And I know that _He_ knows that, and eventually, you will to.

So, pass your judgment, and weigh the events, but _always remember_ , that in the end, I didn't get the "Happy Ending".

And it's _fair_ in that sense.


	2. Names

The first time we meet she's wearing blue, a sundress of sorts that I happen to fancy. It compliments his eyes, which he flicks my direction before pointing out a rather higher up arrangement of roses.

"Those ones up there look perfect," he gives an apologetic face with his eyes, "may I see them closer?"

"Of course," I say, returning a compulsive smile before turning my back to the customers and huffing slightly.

I don't care for heights and I scold myself for _ever_ thinking that having anything up that high was a good idea. Half-way up the ladder I recall why the organization is as such a turn to glance down at the man who is drawn in close to his girlfriend in whispers.

"Um, Sir?" He glances up, "Is it okay that this is more expensive then the flowers we have on the floor?"

I hate to ask that, because I often get _that look_. The one he's giving me now, like I'd just slapped him across the face and called him some awful name.

Cause nice names are hard to find in Midgar.

I can feel a breeze pass through one of the holes in my boot as I shift my weight on the ladder. Normally, I wouldn't ask, and I'd let the customer make some excuse that one of the flowers was too pale a shade of yellow, or bent, and I'd whisk it away to the back.

But this was up high, and call me selfish, but I really only cared to come up here once.

"It's okay," _She_ says, finally turning her eyes to look at me, "we're from the Plate."

I know when I'm being lied to, but I get the flowers anyway, setting them before the couple as the man inspects the "too pale shade of " red and the bend of the closest rose. His hands are rough and callused and he seems to be exchanging a conversation between glances to the dark haired girl on his arm.

"We'll take them," she says, turning to me with a smile.

I guess I must look surprised because I get _that look_ from the male again. I see his girlfriend pinch him from under the counter, but he doesn't falter.

"May I ask the occasion?" My hands reach into below cupboards to begin pulling out a box of complimenting cards and ribbon. "That way I can gift-wrap them free of charge."

I smile at the blonde.

"They're for a funeral."

I immediately feel my expression shift, a heaviness building in my chest. That was…unexpected. His eyes are cold on me, his face a stoic mask and quite the paradox to the snicker I see flash from my peripherals – his girlfriend – hiding it behind a drawn hand and a feigned cough.

"I'm…" I realize I'm staring at her, and snap back to attention," terribly sorry for your loss."

I have bad habits.

He shrugs in response to my apology before tapping the card beneath my felt tip marker. "Tifa, Tifa Lockhart," he says, "H-A-R-T."

There is the soft sound of my curvy writing under the category of "To:"; which I take a moment to think how I've never signed some flowers to the dead before. Usually cards aren't traditional to funerals, but funerals are a little too expensive for this area, so I don't see a lot of them.

I hover over the: "From:" part and glance up to the blonde, but his girlfriend responds, leaning on the counter and smirking.

Her eyes are red.

"ShinRa," she says.


	3. Dates

It's weeks later when I finally get the joke, not that it really is that funny, but I learn that she has a strange sense of humor. And despite myself, I chuckle when I figure it out anyway.

"And this is from?"

I feel slightly ashamed for not getting her name those weeks ago, especially because I don't like to forget the few customers I get through my hole-in-the-wall shop, and she's been in three times since the first.

She smiles warmly, "Tifa."

As I begin the curve of the "a" something deep in the back of my skull stirs to recognition and I take that moment to put one and two together from her first visit. My gaze flicks to her, watching her lean back on the counter top with her elbows, examining the plants about the floor.

She is not wearing blue today. Instead, a simple drape of white cloth and short skirt that I'm sure got a few looks this deep in Sector Six.

"Lockhart?" I ask, "H-A-R-T?"

Well, this is the first time I've ever written anything _from_ the dead. A lot of firsts with this girl.

She glances over her shoulder before smiling, "yeah. H-A-R-T."

I begin to question if I'm some accomplice of some sick, immature, scheme, that is somehow torturing innocent children and possibly small animals. But only for a moment as she turns to face me, laying her bust on the counter as she leans in to whisper.

"I'm from Nibelheim," she explains, as if it would solve the many expressions I'm sure are forming on my lips and brow.

Maybe there's something in the water there?

Her head drops a little as she laughs, seeing that I'm obviously not getting it. "It was a joke."

I laugh lightly for the sake of still not getting it and the fact that this girl seems to think that dead people are the subject of jokes. And don't tell me you wouldn't do the same.

"Let me try again," she composes herself, drawing a gloved hand to her breast and standing to her full height; which is barely over me. "Hello," she extends the hand to me, "My name's Tifa Lockhart, you are?"

"Confused," I reply honestly, my hand still hovering with the marker.

She laughs at this; a warm, full, laugh, and we don't get many down here. I can feel my compulsion forming on my lips and I giggle at her simple reaction.

"How about I explain it over dinner?" she asks, exchanging gil across the table for the arrangement. "Are you free tonight, Miss Confused?"

I'm taken back, not exactly sure what territory I'm entering outside the strange request itself. It wouldn't be the first time a woman has hit on me (she didn't win there), but something from the way she holds herself blurs the actual definition of her dinner.

I glance back to the card on the flowers. The "To:" section filled out to a Mr. "Biggs".

"Um, sure," my eyes flick to the clock subconsciously, "I close at five, can you pick me up here?"

She nods, taking the flowers in her arms and winks.

"See you then," are her parting words out the door.

"See you then, Tifa," and I'm smiling to myself now, if not for the sheer spontaneity of the events, but at least for her eyes.

Have to keep up friendly customs after-all.


	4. Awkward Conversations

It's not a date. Or, if it is, it's the _worst_ date in the _history_ of dates. And what's worse:

She knows this.

I can tell as she sends me sympathetic glances across her bar – yes – _her_ bar. Her eyes tired with the late hour as the birthday-boy, "Mr. Biggs", gets back up onto the bar and begins to dance to some song that no man should know.

I'm sitting at a small table pushed just off the main bar, a glass of water pursed at my lips as Biggs begins to: "get down with his bad self", or at least, that's what the larger pastel costumed man in the corner is chanting.

And the blonde next to me doesn't appear to find it very humorous. At all. His head is balanced in his hands as he looks on in a bored expression and I recall some past receipt that his name is Cloud.

Cloud Strife.

"So," I begin, drawing his attention from his friend atop the bar, "how long have you known, Tifa?"

I'm not much for conversation among strangers but anything to avert my eyes and innocence as Biggs begins a strip-tease.

"Childhood," he states.

"Ah," I pull my finger around the rim of my water, "how long have you two been together?"

He looks at me like I've just suggested he was doing horrible things in the bedroom with his mother. And no, this isn't the first instance I've had to use that to describe someone's facial expression.

 _But Gaia,_ do I pray that it's the last.

I draw back, a blush creeping up my neck as I suddenly feel embarrassed for assuming something so possibly out of the question.

"I'm _so sorry_ ," I begin frantically as my voice picks up octaves, " I just assumed since you two came in together, and you looked so – so," couple-ish? "cute together…"

He's looking at me again in an entirely alien expression somewhere between amusement and idiocy.

"She's like a sister," he says coolly.

I meekly nod to show understanding, no longer trusting my voice with this conversation as I can feel my face burning. And yes, I understand, it wasn't that embarrassing of a mistake – I get that.

What I don't get is whether I'm on a date or not, because his answer certainly complicates some _things_.

"It's _Aeris_ , isn't it?"

I can see him working back to introductions on the porch of the bar in his eyes.

"What do _you_ think of ShinRa?"

Certainly it isn't the smoothest of conversation transitions, and even more, it isn't the nicest of topics to cover, but I can feel his eyes on my face, and I blush involuntarily. Politics usually isn't my tact, so I can't really come up with anything intelligible to say as I sputter for a response. And the last thing I want to do is parrot off news caster opinions.

"They're _okay_ , I guess."

I glance for a reaction, but I'm beginning to see that Cloud doesn't talk much. Strong and silent looks good on the blond though.

" _Cake time_!" the large pastel man slurs – _Wedge_ , I think his name is – pumping his fist to his chest. " _Cake. Cake. Cake. Cake. Cake_."

Tifa appears from behind the bar with a massive cake of a homemade, makeshift, vibe. Biggs log rolls from the bar in his stupor and staggers to lean heavily over me, using my head to support his chest.

And I can smell the alcohol from here; which certainly isn't how I wanted to get to know him.

Scooting from the birthday-boy, I find a nice corner to hide away in as I become an innocent bystander to their song for him. I hum along as he leans to blow out the candles, falling face forward into the cake in his state.

I giggle behind my hand, the sound catching the dark brunette to turn a look over her shoulder at me. Our eyes touch and she smiles warmly.

It is only a moment of maneuvering as she comes to lean against the wall next to me, her hair pulled away from those eyes in a high pony-tail. She leans in, and I assume it's to ensure I hear her as the men are bickering over who gets what piece, and not perhaps for _other_ reasons.

"I'm sorry about this, Aeris," her tone is soft and she makes a face.

I laugh it off, "Oh, I've been to worse."

" _Really_?"

"Yeah, one time at my mother's sewing club, my mom miscalculated the percentage of alcohol allowed in the drinks," Tifa's features break into a grin, "Yeah! _Imagine_ _that_ party."

"And they were armed with needles and everything?" She's giggling, using her hand to hide her mouth.

"Yeah, and I'm surprised someone didn't end up sewn into the couch."

We swap smiles, looking out at the men as Biggs body is tossed aside for the large black man to divvy up the cake to the males left standing. Biggs almost looks comfortable on the floor, his back at some alarming angle.

"You," I start, causing her to turn from her friends, "never did really explain the flowers to me."

She laughs, taking my arm with hers and leading towards the cake.

"Aeris, _here_ , we _hate_ ShinRa."

Upon hearing her statement, the others turn and raise their pieces in a loud cheer. And then realization dawns on me that this wasn't a date at all.

It was a set-up.

"Which, speaking of, we have some _things_ to speak to you about," she says to me, her lips brushing the shell of my ear.


	5. Garbage Days

It's cold out, and I'm angry. And I feel stupid because I know that I should have seen this coming.

It wasn't a date. Or if it was, _I_ didn't get invited to it. Not green-eyed Aeris, not brown-haired Aeris, not even hole-in-the-wall flower girl Aeris.

Nope.

The Cetra was invited.

But Aeris left.

I can hear them on the porch to my back, the larger black man panicking that I'm leaving with the information that I am. Not like I'd want _anything_ to do with it, it'd really only cause more trouble for me.

But he doesn't know this, and as I turn one last glance, I see him on the steps with Tifa's arm stretched across his chest to keep him in place. She's staring at me in an unreadable expression, the light catching those eyes and I turn quickly.

Rounding the corner, I've my hands fisted in the folds of my dress as I stomp through some shards of glass, protecting the already frayed edges. There's a lone streetlamp illuminating the asphalt around me, but past it is a fade of darkness to black.

And I don't really care for it.

"Need an escort?" It's a males voice between a thick Wutai accent and it causes me to flinch.

 _Gaia_ , this couldn't get _any_ worse.

"What can I help you with, Tseng?" I ask, turning to find the dark suited man at the ring of my light source, hands folded at his waist.

Obviously he can catch the annoyance in my tone as he raises a questioning brow and smirks.

"Let's walk," he motions down the road to a waiting car, "then we can talk."

"No thanks, Elmyra must be very worried about me."

I smile and begin to turn and be on my way, but I knew that wouldn't work as his arm wraps around my bicep.

" _Aeris_ ," he starts, "you've been avoiding us for far too-"

"Is there a problem here, _Sir_?" her voice is a slightly deeper pitch than normal as she rounds the corner, gloves on.

I try to catch eye contact but she's glaring at Tseng, her eyes focused on keeping tabs on his hands. So, she knows _what_ he is, which really shouldn't surprise me, being Avalanche and all.

"No…" he says, releasing my arm and stepping back.

I huff, taking a step towards Tifa as she sets both hands on her hips.

"Aeris," he addresses me quietly, "we'll speak later about this, that's a promise."

His eyes shift to Tifa a moment before turning and continuing towards the waiting car. The back door is thrown open to him and as he disappears inside, it revs the engine and peels off.

I spin to the woman next to me, angry.

"Why exactly are you following _me_?"

She looks surprised, tilting her head to the side, "Usually people say 'thank you', but okay…"

I open my mouth and close it, feeling at once _extremely_ rude.

"Thank you," I say lowly.

"Besides, you're technically not even off our property yet," she laughs, "I could have been walking to the garbage for all you know."

"I'm not joining."

My eyes narrow as she strolls past me to a lone metallic trashcan on the corner.

"That's fine," she says, not turning to me, as she takes the can in her arms to head back to the bar.

Tifa Lockhart is strange – and coming from _me_ \- that's _strange_. She probably hears voices too.

"Come inside and I'll walk you home in a minute," her voice is slightly labored as we've made it to the steps of the porch, the wood creaking under her boot.

I choose to wait outside and avoid the _looks_ of the blonde.

From inside I can hear their voices.

"Tifa," Barret begins, "what the hell you doing? Garbage isn't brought in till tomorrow."


	6. Bad Days

I don't have many friends, which is why I _tolerate_ Tifa Lockhart's company. Or, at least in the beginning, that was my reasoning.

But today - _today_ , I'm just enjoying her company.

It's hot and muggy, and our clothing is hanging with sweat, and the shop's windows are all opened to the outside pollution; the average passerby gazing in the window to have me smile and wave from the opposite counter. It's just another day, really.

Tifa is in the corner closest to the door, leaning back in a posture that doesn't look too comfortable. Her neck is stretched out to the extent that her head simply hangs on the skeleton, letting her hair fall in sheets away from her face. Those eyes are closed, and with the steady rise and fall of her chest, I can conclude that she has fallen asleep.

Meanwhile, the radio is telling me how Reactor One was attacked early this morning.

I tisk my tongue and downturn my eyes back to organizing the box of greeting cards under my touch.

It's been like this for a couple of weeks now, usually not the sleeping part, but certainly the sitting in silence part. Because, despite the talkative ruse Tifa Lockhart had given to "lure" me into Avalanche's base to ask the Cetra to join their team, I find that she really doesn't like to talk.

And even more surprising; Neither do I.

Between my peripherals and the store window, I can see a dark spot turn around the corner across the street. It stops opposite the shop door and I find the compulsive need to look up and smile, but I don't.

And it continues to stand there, probably taking in the fact that my bodyguard is pushed away in the same corner as the day before, and perhaps not that she is asleep.

The dark spots had been around everyday since my meeting with Tseng, always loitering about the Slums and keeping business slow to a trickle. Because honestly, who wanted to be in the flower shop the Turks were tapping lines on?

"You okay?"

I gasp a bit from the surprise of hearing her voice, bringing my hand to my breast and looking to her in shock. I'd been a bit too engrossed in side-glance espionage with the hired murderer outside my store window to notice her lift her head.

"Don't do _that_!" I snap in a low whisper.

Tifa frowns a little and straightens in her seat, turning to look out into the street. Unlike myself, she has no problem finding eye contact with the redhead crossing the road. He smirks and waves through the glass before swinging the door open and entering.

I smile, and can't help it.

"What can I help you with-"

"Cut the shit, Aeris," he says curtly, waving his hand to silence me.

Tifa is instantly on her feet as the redhead narrows his eyes at her movement.

"I'm jus' here for a friendly meetin'," he assures with a wink. "Don' go gettin' yer panties in a twist," his tone is sultry as his eyes slide down her extensive span of skin.

"How can I help you, Reno?" I ask annoyed, drawing his attention back.

'You have a meetin' with the Boss Man tomorrow. No excuses."

Tifa lets a very unladylike snort go at his demand, tossing her head to the side to flick her hair as he glares back at her.

"Bring yer lovely _dyke_ here along with ya fer all I care," he spits at her feet before turning back to me, "but be in the church after closin'."

It is a mistake to turn his back to the woman as she suddenly grabs him by the ends of his hair and spins him into close-quarters with the window. The wall shakes violently under her force and speed of the blow, himself reacting with a curse in pain.

"I wasn't aware Turks had messenger boys, why not have the 'Boss Man'" she mocks his accent, whispering to his ear, "come in and meet with Aeris in here, why some church?"

Before I'm able to recognize what's happening, Tifa has Reno's arm twisted back and is continuing to drive the redhead insane by applying pressure.

" _Answer me_ ," her tone is vicious and low.

" _Fuck_ if I know, _Bitch_!"

She shoves off of him, back stepping to block his view of me. He glares, pulling off the window where he left a nice imprint of his face.

"Yer lucky I don't have orders to blow yer fuckin' head off," he spits some blood on the closest plant," Damn, fuckin' lucky."

It's only after the door's bell chimes his departure that I realize I'm crying. The hot tears gathering around the curve of my upper lip and leaving a salty taste in my mouth. I bring the back of my hand to wipe them away and find my touch shakes.

I'm afraid.

I'm afraid of heights, the dark, awkward encounters, murderers, but mostly, I'm afraid of myself. Because I know that green-eyed Aeris didn't get invited to that meeting. The Cetra did, just like it was she who got to go on the worst date in the history of dates with Tifa Lockhart.

Said Tifa turns, looking on in silent concern as I lean against the counter for support. Her hands slowly draw myself in a warm embrace, and my face finds her bare shoulder to muffle my anxiety.

She stands stoic with me for several minutes as I contain myself. Shallowly taking in stale air between her dark hair. The shake has moved to my entire frame by now and I can feel my lungs begin to tighten from the paranoia of it all, but she holds fast, stroking my hair in lazy patterns.

And it's then that I realize that she's not holding the Cetra – that she's not whispering _her_ name – but mine.

And I enjoy it.


	7. A Sense of Humor

Tifa Lockhart doesn't exist. She died in some terrible accident; or at least, that's what ShinRa said, that's what the newspaper read, and that's what her grave stone shows.

I laugh (despite myself) at the obvious irony of it all. Tifa is sitting atop her own grave, her boots swinging lightly and touching the wilted arrangement of roses with my curvy handwriting on the card. And, as usual, she's smiling at me.

Because Tifa Lockhart has the _strangest_ sense of humor.

"Told you it was a joke," she says, glancing down at the rock slab, her last name misspelled with an "e".

It is a standard tombstone allotted to the poor by means of a raffle from ShinRa, really, the only kind you see down here. Her name is carved squarely in the middle, and I notice that not only is Tifa Lockhart dead, but she _died_ five years ago.

I make the assumption that my roses where an anniversary.

"How?" I'm still laughing lightly, "Why?"

I can see her expression darken just the slightest, and I instantly regret asking, which is starting to become a pattern of my mouth.

"ShinRa and I have a bit of a…" she pauses to search for the right word, her smile gone, "…fiery past."

She chuckles darkly at the end word choice.

"Apparently I was sick and got swept six feet under with the rest of their secrets," she continues in sarcasm, patting the top of her deathbed with her hand.

"That why you work in Avalanche?"

She glances up from the nothingness she'd started staring into and laughs.

"Yeah, Aeris," she slips off the tombstone to stand next to me, "that's why."

I must say, I'm extremely impressed with the antics ShinRa went through to cover their tracks, even if they did miss the fine details of the "e". And even more so, I'm impressed with Tifa.

She extends her elbow to me, which I take impulsively, and begins to lead me to the adjacent church of the graveyard. Funny how it would be _my_ church she's buried under.

"Know why I can't join Avalanche, Tifa?" my tone is light despite the growing anxiety of the meeting we're approaching.

She chuckles, "Why, Aeris?"

"I'm not dead."

She laughs again - like I knew she would - and I smile. 'Cause really, it's _kinda_ funny.

And definitely ironic.


	8. Wounds

For a dead girl, Tifa Lockhart is pretty spry, and I think Tseng knows this – or at least – assumed it; because as we enter the church, I'm suddenly pulled (rather violently) to the left, a loud gunshot sounding.

Before my brain has enough oxygen to recognize that I'm not longer vertical, small splinters of wood fall aside my head, probably from the door as, somewhere, I can hear it rattle against the wall. Tifa is on top of me, supporting her weight on her hands and knees as she straddles me in quite a _compromised_ position. She has one hand over my mouth to muffle the sound I surely made on impact with the floorboards, her head turned to peer over the top of the pews she'd tossed us behind for cover.

Tseng had shot at us, and I'm sure my confusion, annoyance, and sheer _peeved-_ ness, was showing as she gazes down and sends me an apologetic face before removing her hand from my lips.

Leaning her face down to mine, my eyes instinctively shut and mouth parts, but she doesn't seem to notice as her lips find the shell of my ear. Again.

"Stay here," she whispers, our closeness to the extent that I feel the strands of her bangs across my cheek and jaw.

And then she's gone, her presence and touch completely removed to leave me lying on the floor of my church.

And boy, do I feel stupid.

At once straightening up, I can feel the obvious blush about my neck and nervously flick my head in both directions to find where she'd run off to, but again, for a dead girl, she's pretty _dang_ fast.

"Apologies, Aeris," he calls out to the pews, his voice echoing about the exposed rafters, "I was only proving fun."

Fun? _Fun_? He could have taken her _head off_!

I ease myself around the edge of my current pew, glaring down the isle at the man standing at the alter, clearly not finding it _fun_. He smirks, putting the dark metal instrument back into his jacket.

As he does so, I begin to stand before I see her lunge from the shadows of the ruined sanctuary. She'd taken a running start and manages to cover a rather impressive distance as both feet collide with his chest.

In her momentum, they both tumble off the alter, Tifa hitting the ground in a roll to gain her footing back, and Tseng crashing like a rag-doll into a stone pillar. I cringe as the stone shifts in place under the strength of the blow.

But Tifa's not done, back in her footing and charging again while pulling back a right attack. Tseng's recovered, and I catch the slightest draw of his back leg as they connect and he glances her blow to the side, manipulating her speed and weight to send her crashing to the ground and into the base of the alter.

He's fluid in the counter, back stepping and reveling the gun from its hiding place again while he aligns the shot at Tifa's back.

But I'm faster, having closed the distance unknowingly, I catch him from behind just as he fires, disrupting the shot.

It hits, and between the spray of blood along the wood, I can hear her cry out in pain, but a moment later I realize it's not her shouting. It's me.

" _No_!"

My hand finds his gun, trying to rip it from his fingers, but my attempt is futile as he lays his palm to my cheek. I crumple to the ground under the sting, instant tears forming in my eyes – but they could have already been there.

" _No, no, no, no, no,_ " I say quietly to myself, watching her slumped over form as the crimson is soaking up her entire back.

I can't identify the wound, and she's not moving, or if she is, the distortion through my tears isn't helping.

"Calm yourself, Aeris," he says down to me, lowering the gun to his side. "She's fine."

Turks definition of "fine" is not something I care to look-up, much less agree on.

"I'm okay, Aeris," her voice is pained and labored, but she says it. And even more, she fits into his definition.

"Are you listening?" He extends a hand down to me, but I ignore it, brushing past with my shoulder as I slide over to Tifa.

Those eyes are closed in contortion and she's grinding her teeth together. Her right shoulder hangs oddly on her body and now closer, I can see the entrance and exit of the bullet through the bone of it.

I sigh in relief, as ridiculous as that sounds.

"Speak, Tseng!"

I snap back over my shoulder at the man, his dark eyes looking down at us in a calculating expression. His hand is in his pocket.

"You and your mother need to stay out of Sector Seven," he states.

" _That's it_?"

I've turned back to Tifa, applying pressure with my hands to her wound, which she tenses under. I can feel the disruption in the skin under my palm, the mangled flesh causing a sick bump under my touch.

"I mean it, Aeris," he's directly behind me now, his knees brushing my spine. "Avalanche's matters are not for you."

I can see him lower the gun to her temple and her body flex under the cold metal.

"Tseng," I whisper, " _please_."

It's entirely silent as we all pose like this. Tifa's breathing shallow and forced as the tiny tap of her blood keeps count on the wooden floor.

" _Please_."

"Consider this a lesson, _Terrorist_."

He draws the weapon away and begins to turn down the isle, his heavy steps fading his departure.

"Aeris?" she calls quietly, her breathing labored through my name.

"Yeah?"

"Stay out of Sector Seven."


	9. Spats

The next few days, I visit Sector Seven everyday. And I don't think it bothers Tifa.

She's usually sitting behind the bar, her right shoulder tied in some impromptu dressing with the arm clutching to the neckline of her shirt to keep still. She doesn't complain about the pain, and she smiles every time I enter, despite the scolding I'll get directly following.

"Aeris," she always starts, "you know you shouldn't be wandering the streets alone."

Her tone is chiding, and I can see the stern expression on her fine brow, but I laugh anyway.

"I'm more a Slumling than you, Country girl – so don't take that finger with me."

She rolls those eyes, taking her heavy boots off the bar and stretching as she stands. I don't think I've ever seen her feet, and I've begun to assume she sleeps in those shoes, which wouldn't be the strangest thing about her.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Eat?"

Like my compulsion to smile, I know she's just being polite, and as I shake my head to refuse, she sighs relieved and grins.

"Where's Cloud and the others?"

Her grin fades instantly and I immediately cross the room to the lone radio in the corner bookshelf and flick it on. Passing through a couple of stations and getting nothing but the current melodic beat of popular choice, I turn it off.

She's still standing behind the bar with a stoic face.

"They'll call," she says.

"Before or after?" I snap, turning sharply to see her taken back at my tone. I soften at once, "I'm sorry, that came out-"

"Don't apologize for what you believe in."

She waves me off, coming around the bar to begin turning the floor chairs up onto the tables. No easy task with only one functional arm, that's for sure. But despite myself, I'm glad she's injured.

"Is Marlene asleep?"

The air between us is hard and heavy, and I hope the little girl can ease the tension.

"She's in bed, but asleep? You know her," Tifa says over her shoulder, still setting up furniture.

And it's true, by now, I do – and I adore her dearly – Marlene that is. I'm still up in the air over a father who finds a hobby in explosives.

"When did they leave?"

I'm leaning on the pinball machine now and she's pretending to scrub at some nonexistent speck of dirt on the table, still not facing me.

"They left early this afternoon."

"It takes that long?" I regret saying it instantly, but my mouth gets a little ahead of my brain in some instances.

She turns to me and chuckles, knowing what's going on in my head – probably better than I.

"They needed to pick up some _supplies_ , and besides, it _is_ a top secret security facility – it can't be some walk in the park," she smirks, "there wouldn't be any _fun_ in that."

I know she knows she's pushing my button, but what I don't know is why. My eyes narrow though at her snarky tone, and I fold my arms and cock my head to a tilt.

"And which definition of _fun_ is this? The _Turk_ version? Or is it the _Terrorist_ one?"

Our eyes meet dead on, and I can feel the blush creeping along my neck as I try to stare her down in this game.

She smiles.

"It's the _Tifa Lockhart_ definition. _You_ tell me where that fits."


	10. Promises

It's not the phone call that wakes me, but the slight movement of my head as she takes the call.

"Yes?" her voice is soft, and I can only assume that it's for my sake. "Cloud? What's wrong – calm down," her urgency picks up and I raise my head in curiosity.

We'd fallen asleep upstairs in Marlene's bed, leaning against the backboard with the small child between us. I'd been using Tifa's good shoulder as a make-shift pillow, but with the phone to her ear now, I'd backed off, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Are you _serious_?" she asks into the phone.

She stands, immediately concerned, and paces a bit by the side of the bed. Instinctively I take Marlene's body into my arms, and cradle the child for comfort – more so mine – as Tifa's facial expressions were clouding.

"Those _fuckers_ ," she hisses into the mouthpiece, and it's even more curious as I'd never heard Tifa curse, especially not around Barret's daughter.

"I'll be there in – _screw that_ , Cloud!" she pauses, and I can make-out the low muffle of Cloud Strife, "I'm not useless – and Aeris is here."

She looks at me, those eyes bright and focused.

There are no parting words as she closes the phone.

"We need to get out of Sector Seven," she starts.

"What's going on?"

The phone in her hand begins to ring again, but she merely opens and closes it without looking.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Um, sure?"

She's not answering my questions and the fear is still building. The look she gives is a concerning one and I find myself lost for words on how to pin her emotion.

"Can you take Marlene to stay with your mother?"

"Of course, but Tifa, what's going on? Did something go wrong?"

She's crossed the room and is putting some of Marlene's things away into a small backpack: clothes, stuffed animals, and a single picture frame from a drawer. Her injured arm hangs limply against her side, swaying in her brisk movement.

"Tifa…" I try again, standing to hold the little girl who is slowly starting to emerge from sleep.

"We need to get out _now_."

Tifa exits to the hallway, her boots heavy on the steps. I follow as Marlene mumbles something unintelligible to me, wrapping her frail arms around my neck as I shift her to support off my waist.

"Get out where?"

I'm at the bottom step, watching her assemble her gloves out of leather and buckles. Her movement is slow and pained as she begins to tighten and seal up the weapon on her left.

" _Tifa Lockhart_ ," I scold seriously, " _What is going on_?"

With both gloves secure, she looks up to me, fear burning in her eyes.

"They're going to drop the Plate."

I can feel my mouth open, and the air escape my lungs, but any sort of reaction is physically impossible as I stand there with Marlene. My brain reels for oxygen as I try and sort the information out.

"We need to get out of here-"

" _Why the hell are they doing that_?" My voice is much louder than I expected, and I can feel Marlene suddenly start. " _What is_ _ **wrong**_ _with you people_?"

Tifa looks taken back, her brow drawing down in confusion and a tinge of anger at my outburst, her mouth opens once before closing.

"Mommy?" It's the five year old, her eyes filling with tears as she gazes at Tifa who continues to look at me.

"Aeris," she manages before some epiphany crosses her face, "it's not us – _ShinRa_ – it's _ShinRa_ that's dropping the plate."

"Not your _terrorist_ group?" My voice is laced with scrutiny, and red irises narrow at me.

At this point, I can't honestly think that Avalanche isn't somehow responsible.

"No, Aeris," she says darkly, taking my arm and leading out into the street.

The backpack hangs off her injured side as we come down the front steps to the asphalt and dirt main road. It's hot and stale out, causing my hair to stick uncomfortably to my neck under Marlene's hands.

"Go straight to Elmyra's – quickly," she whispers, helping wrap the backpack around my shoulders.

"And where are _you_ going?"

She won't look at me as she secures the straps and ruffles the little girl in my arms hair. Marlene's eyes are still glossy and her lip quivers at the sudden change in environment, but nonetheless she is surprisingly quiet.

"I'm going to help," she straightens with her head still cast downwards at the child, and begins to turn away, "Thank you, Aeris – _really_ , _thank you_."

I catch her bicep before I realize, spinning her back to face me. Her look is surprised but guarded past anything else. She begins to say something before I lean in and lay a light kiss on her cheek, which quells whatever she was to say.

"Promise me, you won't get killed?" My voice is hushed, angry, and stern.

"Technically I'm already dead," she says, smiling slightly as I frown.

" _Tifa-_ "

"I promise."


	11. Boyfriends

I'm going to _kill_ Tifa Lockhart, and then, she'll _really_ be a dead woman.

"Aeris?" says the soft swish of brown hair at my waist, "Where are we going?"

Fair question in all honesty, as I really hadn't had the time to think about it – logically – back to my house, but that required heading the exact opposite direction we'd started off in, and I was really just going for a bee-line to the nearest exit.

It really wasn't about where I was going, but more, where I didn't want to be.

"Out of here," I respond, smiling to the frightened little girl and squeezing her hand slightly.

"I want Daddy," she whines into the ends of my dress, "and Tifa – why isn't Tifa with us? Why'd she leave?" Marlene's voice is beginning to fill in tears and panic, and I can feel something weld in my throat.

"I know, sweety," but really, I don't, "they have to go take care of some things, we'll see them soon."

I hope.

She doesn't seem to buy it, choosing to continue kneading into my outfit with tears and snot, not that I mind really. I feel a bit on par with the girl as we continue down the empty street.

Calming myself slightly as we literally cross through the metallic divider of Sector Seven into Six, my relief is short lived as an infantry man is spotted leaning against the corner with his helmet drawn down and composure lax; he appears asleep – or extremely bored – and I realize that I haven't the faintest idea of time.

At Marlene's noise, his head jerks up suddenly, the helmet surveying to us, and all I can think is: _crap_.

"Halt!" yep, _crap_ , "Name?"

He approaches slowly, letting his rifle bounce off his hip in his stride. Marlene is instantly beside herself, and to her intelligence, starts to cry in heavy sobs. Unlike _some_ people, she _knows_ when it's dangerous.

"Er – Aeris," I give, offering a handshake that he doesn't take, examining Marlene with a downturn of his head.

"And what exactly are you doing out here, _Aeris_? Do you know what time it is?"

"Actually no – and we're heading home," I say as I motion towards Sector Six with my hand.

"Heading home? From where?"

"My boyfriend's house," I say it reflexively and am a little pleased about how on my feet I am.

Marlene has broken into silent shakes and is now trying to worm her way in between my legs, while peering around my hip at the stranger. To her credit, she isn't commenting on the situation, and knowing her father, I'm _sure_ she's been well versed in this sort of ordeal.

"Well – it's three in the morning, why you leaving your boyfriend's house?"

He doesn't buy it, and I can see his lips contort into some confused expression. His hand instinctively lays on the handle of his gun.

"Is it really any of _your_ business why I'm leaving my boyfriend?" Once again, it's reflex as it comes out my mouth, and I immediately regret snapping at the armed ShinRa man.

He draws back at my sudden temper, his lips down turning now and I'm given the impression that my outburst might now work in my advantage for credibility.

I fake a sigh as I bring my hand to cover my face – I usually turn red when I lie – and begin my story, now very aware that I'm still _technically_ in Sector Seven.

"I'm sorry, we-we just got into a fight after sleeping together over a phone call that he gets from his Ex," the man removes his hand to bring to his chin, " _Exactly_! What is an Ex calling at his hour anyway?"

I _tut_ my tongue and touch the bridge of my nose.

"So, needless to say, I wasn't about to stick around and get dumped on by _his_ mess with his Ex, so I grab _my_ child and start to head home."

First lie.

I can feel the tinge of pink in my cheeks, but I hope that the male will simply confuse it for frustration with the tone of my voice and story. Marlene is now deathly still and silent at my legs, her large doe eyes glazed over and looking up into my downward glance.

"Well…" the infantry man begins, "I'm –er- sorry for your trouble. But please be aware that there is a strict curfew for a reason, and that next time, you won't get off with only a warning," his tone is business but he flashes a smile down at Marlene.

"So, please – hurry home."

I thank him with a dip of my head and tired smile before turning into the Sector and continuing down the beaten path. I think to perhaps wish him a goodnight, but the irony in it only a few hours –maybe minutes- later would weigh on me forever.

I don't say goodbye to the dead, and needless to consider, they seem to share the same opinion with me.

And then I remember that I'm going to _kill_ her.

"Aeris?"

I look down to the little girl, her nose pinched red in agitation of the hour.

"Yes, Marlene?"

"Is Tifa your boyfriend?"

I'm dumbfounded by the question and the way she manages to put it so innocently. I can feel my face relax and flash through several different expressions as my brain reels to connect an effective answer.

" _What_?" is all I manage.

"Tifa," the child spells out, "is she your boyfriend?"

She seems to completely ignore the gender requirement of the title and instead focuses on the basic emotional needs – something that I surprisingly notice while trying to regain composure – which causes me to _really_ consider it.

Tifa did have a certain knack for _inappropriately_ timed humor, like a certain dark haired Soldier – and had already managed to entangle herself between the Turk and my Ancient affairs. She'd managed a date in which I ended up making a fool of myself, had already become increasingly infuriating, _and_ , the kicker, she was now going off to die.

I almost slapped myself.

"It's complicated, Marlene."

I thought it was a Fair answer.

"Do you like her?"

"She's nice."

"But do you _like_ her?"

"I don't hate her."

Because it's not about where you're going, but more, where you don't want to be.


	12. Surprises

Marlene is tucked away in my bed by the time my mother awakes, coming down the stairs at the crack of artificial dawn streaking through the windows.

"Aeris?" she says surprised, and I can hear her approach quickly to my back and throw her arms around me.

She smells like tea.

"Hey mom," I whisper, closing my eyes and leaning against her embrace, feeling at once calm, "Good morning."

"When did you get in? You should have woken me," she scolds, tightening her thin arms about me and kissing the top of my head.

I can feel the dampness of tears fall into my hair.

"I know, I'm sorry, but we came in so early."

She's released me, and is coming around the small round table to inspect.

"'We'? Is Tifa here?"

She's seated, her eyes dark and hair done up in a messy bun. She looks tired and I feel at once guilty.

"No, Marlene."

Idly, I drop eye contact to swallow my guilt and trace a single finger along the floral pattern of the tablecloth. The hue of the rose reminds me of _her_ eyes.

The Television is on over my shoulder, the volume low and turned to the basic channel of some blue screen; I glance to the clock, the news wouldn't be on for another hour.

"What has that Troublemaker gotten herself into now?" Mom asks, her brow furrowing and a small smile tugging on thin lips.

Between passing conversation on front doors, mom had picked up enough about Tifa to know to ask such a question, but specifics had never been drawn out past polite exchanges. Generally, she liked Tifa and I didn't really want to ruin that.

"It's complicated," I give, my voice low.

I hadn't slept and was caught in the constant paranoia of Tifa's mission, but yet, hours had passed in my anticipation, and still, nothing. Hope had always been my demise though, and I refused to believe that the panic was over.

Tifa would have called.

I could feel tears begin to pool in the corner of my eyes, something my mother pretended not to notice, removing herself from the small table to the stove.

"As usual," she chuckles, "that girl is nothing but _complications_." I can hear the slight _tink_ as she sets the kettle to the stove, "Whatever will I do with you two?"

I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand and turn over my shoulder to smile at my mother's back.

"We're hopeless, I know, Mom."

We exchange like this for another moment when the blue screen of the television suddenly cuts to feed from one of ShinRa's mounted Reactor cams – usually used to help identify Train routes and delays.

The picture is calm; the morning sun breaking the gray haze and smog about the city to reflect and catch on the Sector Seven Mako Reactor in an _almost_ beautiful way. The rest of the Sector is nothing by tiny lights and individual pieces of color as life begins to stir in the city.

"That's strange, news shouldn't be on yet," Mom says, her tone confused as the clam scene suddenly erupts in flame smoke.

There is at once a loud roar and tilt of the small house, and above the loud rumble, someone is screaming. The table over turns and the more delicate items on the walls are thrown to the floor in shattered tea cup collections and curtain rods.

I'm somehow on my knees, my chair painfully fallen to my back and my mother over me; her arms wrapped around my head.

It's a long moment before the house settles and the planet seems to quell, and somewhere, someone is still screaming.

"Yes," I realize the TV is speaking, a blond anchor woman touching her ear, "it has been confirmed, the terrorist group of Avalanche has just destroyed Sector Seven Plate supports."

Slowly, my mother pulls away from me, her mouth ajar as she sits back on her hands and looks dumbfounded at the screen. Her brown eyes turn on mine and it's then that I recognize that I'm tearing, her green gown distorted through the salt.

"My _Gaia_ …" she says quietly, gripping her chest.

There is at once a splitting headache, the pain hard and fast enough to cut my vision in pieces of white as I sway and fall to the hardwoods below. Tangled in my hair, I begin to wither and gag on the floor, the pain _so loud_.

 _Too loud_.

I roll violently into the fallen table, ignoring the searing in my elbow on contact and continuing to cradle my head.

I'm screaming something unintelligible as my mother touches a single hand to my shoulder. I spasm away, grinding my jaw together through the pain.

I'm trying to sort through it all, organizing the sound into sections and single voices, trying to make them out. But all they're saying are cruel names.

And more importantly, I can't hear _her_.

"Aeris?" my mother asks gingerly, "What's wrong?"

The cry starts to dull to a single throb in the front of my skull and I strain to sit up. Between my mother's help, I'm upright and the world spins in my eyes – at once – I feel sick.

"I'm okay," I assure her, waving her off with a free hand as my other continues to comb thought my bangs and rub my forehead.

The room is still spinning and my eyes are closed.

I can hear Marlene crying from upstairs, and instantly, I'm up the banister in recovery, my mother on my heels.

"It appears Reeve, head of ShinRa's Urban Development is about to take the stand and give a few words of this _horrific_ incident," the television continues to drown on.

At once flinging the wooden door open, it crashes loudly to the back wall and into a disaster of overturned shiny things and splintered antique furniture.

Locating the girl is easy enough as I see her on the floor next to the bed, the frame shifted in position, but not toppled over like other things. On closer inspection, I'm relieved to find her unharmed, but shaken as the tears continue to roll down her face.

" _Oh sweety_ ," I cradle her frame as she instantly hangs around my neck and begins crying into my chest.

And my heart aches, _oh_ , does it _ache_.

"I w-want Daddy," she continues to cry over and over into my shoulder; her little voice barely making out the syllables of his name between the sobs.

"I know," is all I can say, continuing to comfort her in lazy strokes on her back while my mother approaches our side slowly.

She exchanges several looks with me, trying to sort out what had happened. And even in our silence - as her look contorts into that of anger and confusion - I can tell she's questionable over Tifa Lockhart now.

But really, that only made two of us.

Instead of pressing me further, my mother bends down to speak to Marlene; which seems to quell the child. Perhaps it's a talent mothers have with small children.

"It's nice to see you again, Marlene," she extends her hand to the little girl who's grip tightens on me, "Do you remember me? My name's Elmyra."

Large eyes flick to me for approval, which I give in a small smile and nod. She takes my mother's hand and shakes it once.

She murmurs something small, which I can only catch the end of my mother's name in, and then shuts her face away in my breast again.

"I want Tifa," she says, muffled by my dress.

Mom gives me a side look that I ignore.

"I know," is starting to be the pattern in my life, something concerning especially when most of the time, I don't.

Suddenly a high ring cuts through the silence, my phone laid across the floor and flashing to life as it rings again.

I react faster than my mother, snapping it from under her hovering hand and not bothering with formal greetings as I answer.

"Hello?"

"Aeris?" Cloud asks, his voice hushed and labored.

"Cloud?" Marlene's head raises at the blonde's name, " _What happened_?"

"Where do you live?"

Normally I would consider that rude, but he sounds pained and in the background I can make out Barret's screaming.

"Tifa knows the way."

I have a sinking feeling in my stomach.

" _She's not with_ _you_?"


	13. A Big Mouth

It didn't take long to find her, which I can only assume is a talent of Tifa Lockhart; though, how useful it proves as a member of Avalanche, not sure.

"Yes, if you're just joining us now, Sector Seven has been completely destroyed by the _terrorist_ group of Avalanche," the blonde newscaster brings her hand to hide her face a moment, her tone uneven before she composes herself with a cough.

"Though this _horrific tragedy_ occurred only hours ago, ShinRa has managed to mobilize quickly enough to save those in the wreckage."

The screen cuts to another live feed from the Reactor cam, bright flashing lights and large vehicles surround the twisted dis-figuration of the Sector, heavy plumes of smoke and fire still flaring. Her voice accompanies the footage, listing off death tolls, damage costs, and other bits of infuriating data.

"Yeah, 'cause those damn bastards knew it was coming!" Barret retorts, his baritone vocals shaking the house.

My mother gives him a disapproving look and points to Marlene still in my arms; the little girl silent and balanced on my hip as I stand in the kitchen, facing the television. She'd refused to let go of me, even after the arrival of her father – not that I minded.

Jessie slides from next to the couch to crouch by the Television and turns the volume up, shooting a dark look at Barret and pressing a dirty finger to her cracked lips to "shush" him.

"The Avalanche leader is still in questioning – caught earlier this morning escaping the blast zone. Scarlet, ShinRa's Head of Weapon Development, covers the story."

The screen cuts again from the blonde anchor to that of another, this woman draped in formfitting red with her hair done up beautifully. Meticulous blue eyes are staring directly into me and I can feel my stomach turn.

All these plastic smiles and faces were beginning to blur.

"The Avalanche leader has been caught – and I assure you," she gives a sick, perfect, smile between bloodstained lips, " _justice_ will be served."

Barret smashes his fist into the small floral couch, causing my mother to snap at him with her fingers. He drops his head apologetically.

"Currently my team is questioning her; however, she has been _uncooperative_."

The blonde taps her nails along the podium she's at, the surrounding reporters flashing pictures every few seconds.

"But do not worry, with my techniques, we will surely get answers to the rest of the Avalanche _scum_. And together, as a community, we can strike back at the fiends that have wounded out city so!"

She motions with her hand and a small gathering crowd claps and cheers; most of them ShinRa employees.

The screen feeds to the interview tape they'd been playing all morning. Tifa is sitting back in a metal chair, her eye's closed and blackened, arms pulled back behind – probably cuffed. The shadows of her face are deep and dark, giving her a very angular appearance as she grinds her teeth in annoyance.

I can't say she doesn't look scary, because she clearly does – not that Marlene would notice.

"Tifa," the little girl calls out to the screen, hand outstretched.

Cloud curses under his breath, still pacing behind me in the kitchen. Biggs and Wedge are at the table, exchanging sad looks.

" _I hope it all burns_!" she screams, opening those eyes.

Her interviewer is only a dark shoulder and no head as the camera shoots over him at her outburst. The anger apparent and frightening in her face, and I can see the man shudder back a bit.

" _All those innocent people?"_ he asks, his voice low and deep.

" _Fuck them, all of them_."

She's glaring directly at the man (and likewise, the audience) and surges forward against her restraints violently, but to no avail.

The frame freezes on her a moment like that; tensed and furious, her hair strewn across wildly with lips pulled back in a grimace. She looks like a woman who is _not_ Tifa Lockhart, like a strange shell of some leftover skin of the woman I know.

She looks empty.

And dead.

"Why would she say that?" Mom asks, turning to the group overtaking her living room.

It's the fourth time she'd asked, and still, no one had answered.

"Editing," Cloud finally says, stopping to stand at the counter, "They shoot their interviews like that so they can add the voice on top for the interviewer."

" _Fuckers_ ," Barret hisses quietly, Jessie turning to give him a look.

"They're just trying to make us look like monsters, and admittedly," Jessie touches the bridge of her nose, "they're doing a pretty good job."

Mom puts her hand in her apron and glances about the room at each of the gang, landing last on me as I pretend not to notice by examining Marlene's hair.

"So what's the plan, Boss?" It's Biggs, leaning back in his seat with a grin, "There's always a plan."

"Plan is we storm in and murder those-"

" _Barret_!" Jessie interrupts.

"Ah _hell_! You got a better idea?" he turns his massive frame about on the couch, glancing to each person, "Any ya'll got a better plan?"

It's silent a moment, and it gives me a minute to consider that if Tifa _were_ here, she'd have a plan.

"Barret's right."

It's Cloud, stepping from his place to pick up the massive sword leaning against the fridge.

"And though I never thought I'd say that," he flashes a grin to the larger man, "there's really no other choice – we have to storm ShinRa."

" _Hell yeah_! That's what I'm talkin' 'bout, Spikey!"

Barret pumps his arm enthusiastically before standing.

You'd think they were planning a trip to the fair, not sulking in the after-math of the mass murder of all their friends and neighbors, and about to take on the most powerful army in the world.

I'm beginning to think that Tifa's not the _strangest_ one of the lot.

"Are you sure we can do this?"

Everyone turns to me, some looking a little shocked by my question, as if they'd forgotten I was here. It certainly wouldn't be the first time I'd gotten that impression.

"Won't security be extremely tight? Shouldn't we wait a few days before going in?"

I said 'we', and only after did it spill from my lips that I notice. My eyes flick nervously to Cloud, searching for recognition and magnitude in his gaze for the little word I'd let slip.

He simply nods.

"Actually, most of their forces are out cleaning up, this would be a perfect time to attack," he pauses, considerate a moment, "You in?"

"Absolutely _not_ ," Mom says, placing her hands on her hips and crossing the room to stand by me, "There is no way my daughter is mixing with your _Terrorist_ antics."

Cloud steps back, bowing his head and racking a hand through blonde spikes, a blush creeping up his neck as he begins to mumble apologies.

"And I can't believe you all – you're just as responsible for what happened and all you care about is causing more-"

"Now wait just a _damn mother fucking_ minute!" Barret closes the distance to tower over my mother, the anger flush in his dark skin and I suddenly shrink back and grip Marlene closer to me.

If needed be, the child would make an excellent shield – not a physical one of course! – _emotional_.

"Don't go pointin' any fingers at us, that was all the damn _ShinRa's_ fault," he thrusts his finger back at the screen, "It was _their_ damn choice to murder those people-"

"Because _you_ existed," she retorts, keeping her ground.

Barret blinks and opens his mouth before closing it. He's obviously at a loss for words, gagging on his conscious as his face begins to darken and his head dips low between the broad shoulders. He looks… _pathetic_.

"You can't blame them for that," I say in a low tone, causing both parties to turn to me, "You can't blame this destruction on the simplicity of existence – that's not fair."

I shift Marlene to my other side, the little girl twirling a strand of my hair and laying her head on my shoulder.

"Aeris," mom's voice softens as she gazes at me with understanding eyes, "you _know_ what I meant."

I shake my head.

"No, mom, it's not because they exist," but what they did with their existence.

They're lucky enough to get _some_ choice.

She sighs, frustrated, "Life isn't fair sweety."

 _Gaia_ , do I know that better than anyone.

I turn my eyes to the television again - the screen replaying the interview- frozen on Tifa's hard glare.

Okay, maybe not _anyone_.

"It doesn't matter - I'm going with them."

I set Marlene down to avoid eye contact and I can feel the compulsion to justify myself.

"I'm sorry, Pinkie," I turn suddenly to Barret, realizing he's addressing me, "I can't let you come."

I can feel the annoyance in my brow, which just means he better have a _dang_ good reason for rejecting me (and using such a _ridiculous_ nickname), _especially_ after offering me to join him those weeks back.

Maybe it was months by now…

I don't need to retort as he reads into my facial expression – obviously much more apparent than I realize, which makes me want to apologize a moment.

"Tifa would never forgive me."

But only for a moment.

"Well," I begin, finding a different tact, "she's not here," I point out, drawing to his side and linking my arm with his, "and if you don't tell, I won't."

Cloud chuckles at my comment – and I silently thank him – but Barret doesn't seem impressed by my attempted humor, scratching the back of his head while my mother stands, watching us with a foreign expression on her face.

I can't look, so I don't.

"She _does_ have exceptional abilities with Materia – remember how well she healed up Tifa's shoulder?" Jessie adds, winking at me.

I smile.

"You mean the one she still can't move?" he replies darkly.

"Better than anything you were able to do," Cloud quips, curling his perfect lips into a smirk at Barret's glare. "Besides, Aeris owes Tifa."

I nod, taking the scapegoat - _yes_ , that's it - I simply _owe_ her.

But Marlene would never let me have the easy out for justification.

"Daddy, let Aeris go!" she says as she yanks lightly on the fringe of Barret's pant leg, "Tifa's Aeris' boyfriend."

I'm going to _kill_ Marlene Wallace.


	14. Decisions

Well _that_ was something entirely uncomfortable to explain; something that ended up in me repeating: "oh kids – what will we do with them?", and several variations of such topic, too many times to count.

And still, Jessie was curling her lips at me in a smirk – Barret giving me some alien expression – _and my mother_ – I couldn't even face her. Suddenly, my shoes were _incredibly_ fascinating, which I'm sure wasn't helping my case that Marlene was _crazy_.

"What Materia do you want, Aeris?" Cloud says, surprising me with his closeness as I suddenly jerk my head up to meet electric irises.

" _Huh_?"

He grins and closes his eyes before shaking his head, " _Gaia_ , you two are so similar," he mumbles, taking my wrist and turning my palm upwards to place a large orb in the center.

It looks like my eyes.

"I'm going to load you with our Restore Materia – can you handle any offensive magic?"

We're out on the deck now, the team scrapping together supplies and equipment from about the area. Cloud and I are seated on the steps, a heavy pack at our feet between Jessie's legs as she organizes; it's full with ghostly glows and fighting pads.

"Just fit her with Tifa's stuff," Barret says, his back now to us as he goes about fitting several clips of ammo into his arm a few feet away.

Jessie is still smirking (at me), and begins to reach into the pack and remove several different types of Materia.

"So, do you have any sort of weapon? Or do you need to carry the pack?" she asks, looking up at me from the bottom step.

"She has a staff upstairs," my mother's voice is low, positioned behind me as I _still_ couldn't face her.

There's a soft swish of the front door for her departure.

"Neat-o!" Jessie beams, "Know how much it can carry?"

Cloud snorts a bit, removing the orbs from his blade and replacing them in the bag. I turn, a bit curious and irritated.

" _Excuse_ me?" I press into his shoulder, "What's so funny?"

He at once looks a tad embarrassed, but it's quickly eaten away by his stoic gaze and straight mouth.

"A rod?" he starts, "how _useless_ is that?"

"Not so bad considering I don't keep _terrorist_ agendas," I snip, causing Jessie and him to frown.

Once again, my boots are _incredibly_ fascinating.

"Here," something presses into my shoulder, causing me to turn to look up into my mother, "Need anything else?"

She forces a small smile, which I give back.

"No, thanks mom," I say softly, taking the rod from her hands and passing it down to Jessie, who takes it eagerly.

"I always wanted one of these things," Jessie says excitedly, beginning to unscrew some compartment I wasn't aware existed, "not very practical though with my line of work."

She winks at me and begins setting Tifa's Materia.

"So, you've got your standard Restore – our strongest one mind you-"

"Basically, watch our asses," Cloud adds coolly.

"Exactly! And then you have some Fire Materia – Tifa specializes in it, so it's got a bit of a _punch_ ," Jessie's eyebrows raise at her pun, and I smile, "But don't let it get he best of you."

She tightens the rod before handing it back, heavy and cold in my grip as I sit with it.

"The only other thing is a protection for some barriers, easy enough?"

"I've never used Fire before," I admit, "is it hard?"

Cloud stands from his seat, swinging his massive sword once and seeming to completely ignore my question. He places it in it's holder before turning back to me, holding out a gloved hand, which I take cautiously.

"It's a bit different because unlike Ice and Bolt it doesn't materialize from the environment at a distance, but instead feasts on the source."

Honestly, that doesn't sound _too appealing_ to me, and I'm sure he can see it in my face as he chuckles and shakes his head.

"It won't hurt you if you're careful, it'll just be a bit shocking."

He motions me closer with his hand, drawing me into his wide set stance with my back against his chest. Taking the rod under his touch, he demonstrates by bringing the low end of the pole upwards and striking it against the ground like a match, and likewise, the end of it flares into a flame before whipping off and smoldering out a few feet away.

Jessie at once claps excitedly, and I'm a bit in awe.

"It's much more an athletic magic than others," he says against my ear, "You'll get used to it."

I can imagine how Tifa would use it, and at once, it makes sense why she would only carry Fire.

Backing off my frame, I'm left to glance down at my weapon, the heat of the magic dull under my jade painted nails.

"T-thank you," I say quickly, turning to Cloud with a bow, "I won't let you guys down!"

He scratches the back of his head and shifts on his boots, " _I_ know," is his response.

Biggs exits from the front door rather loudly, juggling several yards of rope and nearly tripping over Jessie on the steps.

" _Hell girl_!" he complains, dropping the cord in her lap, "can't you see I'm walkin' here?"

Jessie makes a face before organizing the supplies into the pack. I giggle behind my hand as Biggs gives a flirtatious wink my direction.

"So, Boss – where we headed?"

Everyone turns to see Barret finally face the group, arms folding over his barrel sized chest. His eyes lay on each of us before he speaks, baritone vocals rich and _comforting_ in a sense.

"We need to get into that ShinRa building – and the only ShinRa connection we can reach is in Sector Six."

"Six?" Cloud looks confused, "Who the hell is in league with ShinRa in Sector Six?"

There's a moment of silence while the group inspects one another, Biggs and Jessie throwing glances over my head while Wedge – who had finally appeared from behind the house – is looking wide-eyed at Barret.

They all seem to know the answer expect for myself.

"Oh," Cloud says quietly, recognition and understanding coloring his cheeks, "The Don."

I can hear my mother _tisk_ her tongue disapprovingly.


	15. Plans

" _Fucker_ ," Barret begins lowly, leaning into the guard at the door, "I don't think you understand _exactly_ what you're getting yourself into."

He motions by lifting the metal craft of his arm to poke the man in the chest, and as _disturbing_ as that appears, the thug at the door looks little but impressed.

"I _get_ what you want, man – but face it – there's _no way_ I'm letting you in to see The Don," he sneers, smirking as Barret draws back, shocked, "He's a _very_ busy man, after-all."

Barret is silent a moment, shifting his weight slightly as I imagine he searches for a different type of tact – and though him and I are still strangers – I can only assume that Barret doesn't have many versions of _tact_ outside his fist.

"And really, man," the guard begins again, "I advise strongly _against_ it, wouldn't want ShinRa down here to remove you from our property."

Barret's mouth twitches at the name drop.

"I hear they're pretty _vicious_ after the whole Avalanche ordeal."

Rocking myself back off the edge of the corner I turn to look at Jessie, her brow scrunched up as she seems to be working something out in her head.

"Well this looks like a no go, we can't even get inside," I sigh, leaning heavily against the graffiti brick.

"There _is_ no other way," she says sourly, pinching the bridge of her nose, "The Don's the only one in the Slums that deals with ShinRa, and since none of the trains are running, he's the only one that would know how to reach the upper plate."

"Why? He's just some thug, why would he have an elevator to ShinRa?"

I really couldn't fathom how the pimp would be of any assistance. Sure, he was a major drug and crime lord through the Slums, so I guess it makes sense that ShinRa would supply his _escapades_ for higher control, but it's not like he had a direct door to their office.

"It's rumored that Corneo delivers," Jessie pauses before leaning into me and whispering the next word, "three _whores_ to the President directly – every night."

I can feel my neck flush. _Interesting_ choice of office door, I guess we'd be coming in the back.

"But don't you think the President would take a night off for a crisis?" I'm now whispering as Barret comes around the corner, cursing.

" _Bastard_ ," he says, striking the brick with his fist hard enough to make it chip.

"Even if he does," Jessie begins, ignoring Barret, "Eventually, a helicopter will arrive to transport the women from this brothel to the ShinRa HQ."

Cloud, who had been silent during the explanation, pushes from the wall to glance at Barret, "No go?"

"Fucker says men aren't allowed," Barret huffs, folding his arms – which I'm beginning to recognize as a trait of his, "I say we bust in there and cause hell."

Cloud shakes his head.

"We don't want to mess with the creep – he has an army at his fingertips, and we've got enough problems than having to deal with his shit."

"Yeah, well, you got any better suggestions?"

He's quiet a moment as he draws a hand to his chin in thought. Barret seems to take it as a "no" and throws his hands to the Plate above.

"Well isn't that just _peachy_!"

"Er-" the sound I make draws all eyes on me, Biggs and Wedge even leaning forward from their shadowed corner to look my way, "I have an idea," I say lowly, blushing.

Barret doesn't look impressed, but for the sake of politeness, asks, "What is it, Buttercup?"

I share an amused look with Jessie before holding my head up higher and facing him.

" _I_ sneak into ShinRa by auditioning as one of ShinRa's –er," I trip over the correct word, "sex workers for the night," I finish quickly.

Barret snorts, "Hell no – I don't think you realize what kind of place this is."

He motions to the surrounding neon lights and rusted gutters. The streets are treads of mud and trash while the air wafts with overly loud music and smog. .

It didn't take a genius to figure this place out, and luckily, I qualified.

"I'm well aware of where we are. I did grow up in this area."

"Aeris, we can't let you do that. Not only is this not your fight, but you'd be entirely alone. Too many things could go wrong," he evens me with his eyes before turning them on Jessie, causing her to redden, "what about you, Jessie?"

" _What?"_ It's simultaneous from Barret and me, the big guy throwing a sideways glance at my outburst.

"So it's okay for Jessie to be put in danger, but not me?"

He shakes his head, "No, it's not okay for anyone, but sadly, I can't argue that it's not a good plan – it certainly gets someone in."

Just _not me_.

"Jessie," Cloud turns again to the redhead, "you really sure about the whole whore exchange?"

He doesn't whisper to say it.

"Er – yeah. One time, Ruth told me about it 'cause apparently they get paid _a lot_ if they're chosen."

Biggs snorts, just off Jessie's arm, "Knew that girl was a _slu-_ "

" _Biggs_!" Wedge snaps, "Ruth is a _beautiful, nice,_ girl."

"Yeah – a _nice piece of-_ "

"No way, Spikey," Barret cuts in, "I already lost one, not about to lose another."

"What if I go in with Aeris?" Jessie adds, ducking under Barret's arm he attempts to wrap around her shoulders, "Then we'd also have more agents up there."

I brighten, an idea suddenly crossing my mind.

"Yeah! And, why don't we take Cloud with us, for _extra_ security," I add, smiling and trying to stifle a giggle behind my hand at my thoughts.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Buttercup," Barret chuckles, "but Cloud doesn't exactly meet the entrance qualifications," he says, hooking a thumb towards Cloud.

I shake my head and step closer to the blonde, causing the man to draw back slightly, eyes darting to meet mine.

"I don't know, Cloud does have some pretty feminine features," I say, brushing some stray hairs from his gaze.

"What are you suggesting, Aeris?" he asks threateningly.

I need not answer as a rather fabulous drag queen rounds the corner, flicking her plastic hair over one shoulder and winking at Cloud. She's draped in sequence and an abundance of shiny material. I make it obvious to notice the queen before I turn to Cloud, feeling the compulsion on my lips twisting into that of something foreign, a smirk, as realization colors his parlor. He merely gawks at me in disbelief.

"Absolutely _no-_ "

"Not even for, Tifa?"

This quells him, which I note. Not often that a man considers drag for a girl, especially not a girl he views as a "sister".

Jessie is giggling hysterically, causing Cloud to shoot her a glare that does nothing to falter her. Biggs and Wedge aren't much better, sharing grins and biting their lips as if they have plenty they would like to comment on.

I'm guessing the massive sword still at Cloud's fingertips causes them pause.

"I think it's brilliant," Barret finally says, completely serious – which surprises me.

Perhaps his mistrust in me was overshadowed by his dislike for Cloud?

"I think you're _nuts_ ," Cloud retorts his direction, "Why do _I_ have to do it? Why not you?"

"Because," Jessie calms herself a moment, "Barret could _never_ pull off those heels. Too tall."

I laugh behind my hand.

"Because I'm _short_?" Cloud cries, advancing on her, his frustration only egging on the other members.

I press my finger to Cloud's lips, silencing him at once.

"Because," I begin, "you're stronger – Ex-Soldier, right?"

He nods under my touch, eyes staring down into mine with extreme focus.

"You'd be the perfect escort into the building, the most _capable_ ," I say, stroking his ego as I see his eyes light up.

Men really are too easy.

"So, Cloud? 'You in'?" I mock his voice, winking at him as he smiles just slightly.

It's gone in a second, and I feel a little saddened that he doesn't smile more. It really does fit on him, especially against those electric blue eyes.

My stomach turns at the thought of someone else.

"Yeah, I'm in," he assures, nodding, "For Tifa." He adds, glaring at Barret's grin.

"Damn, whole team's full of fuckin' fruits."

I turn over my shoulder to give a sour look before taking the Soldier's hand and gently tugging him from the group's center. His look is of surprise as we begin down the slight slope into the heart of the Market, waving over my shoulder as we depart.

There's the light fall of steps behind us as Jessie suddenly appears at my side, linking with my free arm in a smile.

"So," she begins, smirking, "what color do you think would look best on him?"

Cloud groans, tilting his head to the Plate as I glance over to inspect the curve of his Adam's apple and fall of his hair.

"Hmmmm," I make in the back of my throat, "I think blue would look flattering, bring out his eyes."

Jessie giggles, leaning around me to get a closer look, "You're right – blue it is!"

"You owe me _at least_ one date for this – both of you."

"Wow, _only_ one?" Jessie says, mocking disbelief and turning to me, "Such a cheap whore, isn't he?"

She loses the whisper of the word as we all break into laughter.


	16. Boobs

I'm beginning to feel self-conscious; which albeit had always been a usual problem of the fair sex - was starting to rear its ugly head more frequently in the last twenty-four hours –currently now as I sat next to Jessie examining Cloud Strife.

 _Miss_ Cloud Strife.

We'd managed some Honey-bee Inn outfits through Barret's _tact_ , and had convinced the local dress tailor to attach a small black skirt to Cloud's insect leotard to hide his… _bulge_ , and muscled thighs. Pair that with the coupon razors we'd gotten at the pharmacy across the street - and some blonde wig Biggs had managed from _someone_ \- and Cloud looked pretty _dang_ good.

 _Especially_ as a girl.

Jessie is beside herself, forcing half her hand into her mouth to keep from breaking into hysterics as Cloud stands in an assembly of mirrors – _clearly_ – not amused. He folds his arms and sets his face into the typical Cloud glare; causing me to notice that we still had to shave his arms.

He catches me eyeing his blonde fuzz and shakes his head, "No way, Aeris."

"Then you'll never get up there with us and Jessie and I will be all alone."

I give a mock pout, leaning against Jessie who follows my lead in facial expression.

He continues his nasty look, "No."

Standing from the uncomfortable seat, I'm across the few steps and 'primping' Cloud's wig, smoothing the style similar to Tifa's. He's inspecting my activities out of his peripherals through the mirror, watching my hands idly comb through the plastic strands.

He doesn't notice Jessie on his side, beginning to shave patches of his arm hair away until the razor touches his skin a third time.

"Oh man!" Biggs exclaims, coming into the darkened dress shop with a small grocery bag, "You look great!"

I wink at the dark haired man before coming behind Cloud to fix his drooping insect rear of the costume, working it with my hands to make it fall right. He seems at once uncomfortable and tenses.

"Go on!" Cloud snaps, "Get all your comments out, take some _damn_ pictures and be done with it!"

The corner of Cloud's mouth twitches.

"Perfect!" interrupts Jessie from the side, finished with shaving; she pulls at the gathering of fabric around Cloud's bust even.

"It's missing something," I say, more to myself than anyone else.

Cloud spins on his heel as if to protest anything else I could possibly fathom up to torture him, but quells as he sees me approach with the object in question between my hands.

I place the antenna headband along his temple and behind his ears, pulling some strands back to tuck away. It's a dark piece of plastic, two long spindly wires shooting off the head a few inches before expanding into giant, puffy, yellow, balls.

And I think it's adorable – but let me tell you – Cloud _does not_ share my enthusiasm - as one of the head ornaments bounces up and down on its wire.

"Perfect," I chime, stepping back to take in everything from the black heels to the red lipstick.

"Holy Fuck!" comes Barret's baritone vocals from the doorway, everyone turning his way (including the dress store owner), "I think I just had a hard-on," he says with wide eyes.

It's only seconds before Cloud is hidden away in his dressing room, mumbling some curse or another as the curtain falls shut and he's back to sulking.

"Damnit, Barret!" Jessie chides, "Do you know how long it took to get him out the first time."

Jessie just brings her palm to her face and shakes her head as if to say: " _Men"._

He holds up his hand to offer a weak apology before pulling Biggs to the side and beginning to discuss in hushed tones. Their smiles are gone, eyes focused as they lean into each other.

I gasp a little as I feel a hand gingerly find the crease of my elbow, turning to look into plain eyes as Jessie leads me towards the dressing rooms.

"We'd better get ready," is her explanation as she takes one curtained off section of the room.

We dress in silence a moment, myself turning the light fabric in my hands a couple of times and trying to figure out all the straps. It'd been much easier getting Cloud into it for some reason. I begin taking it off for the third time upon seeing I have it backwards, again.

"So," Jessie's light voice floats over the curtain between us, "You and Tifa?"

It sounds more like a statement than a question, and I can feel my ears start to take on heat the simple prod at the whole Marlene _mix-up_. Of course it would rear again without face time with anyone.

"Tifa and I, what?"

I play stupid, not really sure how to go about explaining this – it worked _so well_ the first time.

There's the slight muffle of cloth as Jessie doesn't respond a moment, which causes me a slight flare of hope that she'd dropped the subject.

"Are you two really together?"

" _No_!" I respond a little too quickly, "We're just friends," my tone softens, "I mean – I don't even really know anything about her, she doesn't talk much."

" _Really_? All that time you two spent together and you know nothing?" I can hear Jessie's surprise.

"It's not like we sat around and gossiped. I _was_ working, and she was just sitting quietly most of the time."

"Then why go through all this trouble? Why even put yourself through all this danger for someone you hardly know?" she asks, curious.

"She took a bullet for me – if that's not motivation to get to know someone - I don't know what is."

"So you _do_ owe her."

"I do," a lot, "and really, she's my friend and I want to help."

"Won't hear complaining from me, we need all the help we can get," I can hear the smile in her voice.

There's another hiatus in the conversation as I retrace the events of Tifa's time in my shop, something eating at me in the back of my skull, pushed far enough down to sit with all the silent screams of this morning.

"Hey Jessie," I call, hearing her make some noise in the back of her throat in recognition, "Why did Tifa hang around my shop all those days?"

"I think she felt bad," there's a shuffle of more cloth a moment, "after you refused to join us, I think she felt bad that you had to carry around our secret."

I'm naked now, examining myself in the mirror with the black and yellow fabric pooled over my toes. Side glances at my figure let me see how flushed my skin is around the topic. Taking both hands in the leotard, I pull the costume covering over and into place.

"It wasn't just because you guys were keeping an eye on the Cetra?"

" _Heh_ , no offense, Aeris," I can hear her chuckle, "But the Cetra doesn't really mean _anything_ to us – we wanted you on our team because ShinRa wanted you."

And though, as she says it, it _should_ sting - it doesn't. In fact, it feels good as some weight is lifted from the corner of my mind.

"None taken, Jessie."

I'm smiling to my reflection, setting the headband atop my curls and straightening my outfit. Certainly, it isn't my favorite attire, but I have to admit, it could be _much_ worse.

I could be Cloud.


	17. Balls

What does it take to make a man – because _surely_ – there are some sorry excuses populating Midgar that need to be reevaluated; namely, the sorry sack of gold and bone before me, Don Corneo.

He's short – shorter than me – and about thrice my size, waddling down the line-up of women as he twists some gold rings about his fingers, sometimes coming to stroke a patch of his blond hair. His attire appears as a heavy velvet cape trimmed in faux fur and a soiled suit of dark color.

And he fits his tacky décor nicely.

My stomach begins to turn just watching him, keeping a sultry smile and wink as he leans into my face (on his tip-toes). His cologne smells between cleaning supplies and dead things something awful.

I continue to smile as his hand obtusely feels up my thigh.

" _Very nice_ ," he says.

"Thank you," I struggle through the compliment. Someone had to have manners, I suppose.

His hand reaches around to cusp my butt, tightening his grip as dip my head to hide the anger.

Corneo's moving on though, going down the line and performing the same to each woman – Cloud the only exception as he grabs the pimp's wrist before smiling sweetly and making some excuse of being "fresh for the President".

I want to laugh, but then the reality sets in that if it weren't Cloud, another girl would probably be making the same excuse – but meaning it. Thankfully, Corneo reads into it wrong and gives a sick smile.

" _Oh_! _So_ proper! I _love_ little girls that play nice for Daddy," he smiles crookedly, showing several gold caps along his back molars, " _Hmmmmm_ , so many good choices – so hard to choose."

Corneo overly animates his head, appearing like a disheveled owl as he tilts his expression back and forth on his shoulders, taking the line-up in.

"Kotch, what do you think?"

The guard that had handled us at the front door – _Kotch_ apparently (his mother must _hate_ him) – steps forward from the shadows, saluting.

"I recall that the President tends to favor brunettes, _Sir_!"

He steps back, eyeing my exposed leg.

"You're correct, as usual – good man," Corneo says, waving with his wrist a bit to the guard behind him, "This one it is then."

He touches my collarbone to be more specific, trailing the finger up the hallow of my neck to pause on my lips.

"The President will like you," he grins, eyeing my chest obviously before turning back to his men, "You can have the rest."

Their loud cheer drowns out Cloud's exclaimed: " _What_?" as the small thug army surges forward to begin pulling girls every which direction.

It's chaos as they flail and squeal (some in delight), my eyes racing through the crowd to find Jessie's plain ones, but she's gone, engulfed by the mass. And Cloud is struggling, three men hauling him away while another finds the small of my back and begins nudging me towards a side-door.

I think I'm trying to get away, but in the claustrophobia of it all, I'm merely jostled along towards the door. Cloud is now in the hallway, his blue eyes searing into mine as sheer panic and horror crosses his normally stoic face.

I give a pained smile before the door closes and I'm outside to a waiting helicopter.

"Ready?" the guard says to me, grinning.


	18. Friends

This isn't the first time I've been to the ShinRa tower - the massive skyscraper of glass and steel standing with an air of architectural arrogance; and admittedly, this wasn't even the first time I'd been by helicopter. But it was certainly the first time I'd come willingly – well, perhaps that's not quite the _right_ word. _Ah_ – got it:

It's the first time _Aeris_ had come to the ShinRa Tower.

The helicopter is beginning its decent, a man visible from my small window waving the aircraft into place, which was a real shame as far as I was concerned – not only had I been guiltily enjoying the view, but I had run out of time to form some sort of backup plan (to no avail).

I get the impression that usually backup plans are made _before_ everything goes wrong. I'm a little slow on some uptakes however.

It's mere minutes of exchanging hands before I'm inside the top level – the President' personal suit I gather from the décor– and standing awkwardly in my insect costume among minimalist furniture and an interrogation scene.

The blonde woman – _Scarlet_ , as I recall – is the most obvious thing; her bright attire and platinum hair demanding attention, and her scathing vocals did nothing to quell that observation.

"I don't think you understand your situation, _Terrorist_ ," she snips, "I'm not here to talk business with you. I'm here to get answers, and if you don't give them: Game over."

I'm suddenly playing side-glance espionage again, fixing my expression into boredom and huffing lightly, while trying to steal a glimpse of this _Terrorist_.

Obviously, it was bound to be Tifa.

The man next to Scarlet is short – Corneo's height if my depth perception is correct – and blocking most of the sight line, and appears to be stroking his face - though I can't really tell from the back. He's dressed in an overly green suit with dark hair.

" _Hmmm_ , you know," his tone is boisterous, "we could send her off to the execution chambers."

I shift uncomfortably on my heels.

"The postage to send her there costs more than her life," Scarlet muses, drawing a finger to her lipstick, "Which is why we _should have_ built one here," her tone is passing as she spins on her heels to face my escort and me.

"My life is worth more than you're whole damn city – _don't you know who I am?_ " a younger pitched voice cries, limbs flailing from the crowd. "You bugfuck _morons_!"

That is obviously _not_ Tifa.

"You _insolent fools_!"

A foot appears above the man's head, nearly taking it off as the crowd gasps and parts back – letting me see clearly 'the disturbance'.

She's young - _gangly_ and short with dark hair and sprite-like features.

" _I'm_ the Great Ninja, Yuffie!" the infantry man is struggling to hold her flailing arms, appendages darting every direction, "The White Rose of Wutai!"

Her attire is somehow on par with mine for _scantily clad_ , but her arm is fitted with an overly large gauntlet of some sort, making her appear unbalanced.

"It appears your," Scarlet has crossed the room to stand over me, " _appointment_ has arrived," she hisses the word.

I give a wink, which she responds to with a look of clear disgust.

The younger girl is slowly starting to get free, gnawing on the infantry's arm as he begins to curse and change holds.

"Ah," the president turns to me and grins, "Welcome my dear, we're nearly finished here."

He makes a motion with his wrist to at once shoo away his meeting and draw me closer; obliging as I click across the tile and stand between him and this 'Yuffie'.

"Pleasure to be here," I coo, flashing my smile again.

"You're making a _big_ mistake, pal," she tries again, falling limp in her captor's arms as she rests, "Big – _huge_ – mistake."

" _Ugh_ , can we just kill this brat?" Scarlet asks, curling her lips into a smirk, "She's given us nothing on Avalanche."

"That's 'cause I don't know what you're talking about! For the last _freakin_ ' time!" Yuffie quips, throwing her feet as high as they will go in substitute for her restrained arms.

"Is this the Avalanche leader?" I ask innocently, getting a glare from the young girl.

Knowing answers before asking questions is actually _extremely_ satisfying.

The President smiles.

"Actually no. This is an accomplice to the Avalanche leader."

"I told you a _million_ times, I didn't know that stupid lady!"

Well, she's obviously talking about Tifa – how _else_ would someone describe a person who goes running _towards_ the bomb?

Oh, right – 'Soldier'.

" _Quiet_!" Scarlet snaps, causing the infantry man to cover Yuffie's mouth with his glove – which she immediately takes between her teeth.

"One of our _Elite_ units caught her with the Avalanche Leader, trying to murder him."

 _Turk_.

There's cursing before the guard rips his hand from the child's mouth and she blurts: " _Bullshit_! Our people don't murder, we have honor!"

The green suited man rolls his eyes, "Then what were you doing exactly?"

" _I_ was trying to score a buck," _yep_ – ' _honor'_ , "but that chick attacked me - _I'm_ the victim!"

The President looks little but impressed, folding his large arms and taking a hand through receding blonde hair.

"I don't have time to argue over _technicalities_ ," or the plausible truth, "and must conclude this meeting till later. Scarlet, please send out a memo to the appropriate participants to discuss this further."

There's a flare of anger in Scarlet's eyes a moment, an observation the President doesn't seem to share with me, as she gives a forced smile, "Although, I don't recall when I became your secretary."

He chuckles as the man and she make their exit, _clearly_ not understanding her tone. Or maybe I was just reading into it wrong?

" _Yeah_! You better run!" Yuffie calls after Scarlet, waiting till the door clicked shut to do so.

I hide my compulsion behind a drawn hand as the child begins to bitterly scowl at the rest of the occupants in the room. Including me.

"Sir," the guard begins, saluting with his bitten hand, "Would you like me to take the girl back to the other in the Holding Cell?"

A sudden arm is wrapped around my waist and I have to remember why I'm here, the President gazing down at me with something alien written in his expression.

"No," he says, still looking at me in the same manor Corneo had done an hour previous, "Take her to my bedroom and restrain her."

There is an immediate sound of disgust, luckily drawing the President's attention from my face and towards the source of Yuffie – and of course – drowning out my own.

"You _perv_! That's _sick_!"

She continues to scream as she's dragged off across the marble to a smaller mahogany door, thrashing and cursing the whole way.

"So, my dear," his face leans in close to mine again and I can taste the nicotine and coffee on his breath, "I didn't get you're name."

"Buttercup."

The President motions with his hand after them, giving his arm and feigning a gentleman's smile as we walk in their wake. The massive office enclosing into a smaller (but still large) bedroom, dressed in dark woods and glass surfaces.

It could have been described as tranquil had Yuffie not been throwing a fit. That and the fact that it was located in the ShinRa tower.

"Where do you want her, Sir?"

"On the bed is fine, be sure to tie her feet together."

She's thrown to the centered bed on her face, the fabric dark enough to camouflage her loose hair as she lays and the infantry man begins to wrestle her feet together. I stand silent, watching somewhat amused as Yuffie makes several clean strikes in the man's groin, stomach, and jaw before she's finally restrained.

But now I need a plan – and preferably- a map. Though there was feasibly only one direction I could manage.

Down.

I'm on the bed face first after zoning out again, the weight atop me massive and constricting as I begin to choke on cologne. Everywhere is soft fabric and rough hands as my costume begins to fall away – unfortunately – he doesn't seem to be having as much trouble with it as I.

Aside us, Yuffie is still screaming, wiggling and squirming, her eyes clenched shut as she becomes more frantic and probably frightened.

"Let me kiss you," I manage between the sheets, getting the reaction as I'm suddenly twisted to face Shinra before his mouth crashes on mine.

And he tastes like an ashtray – or at least – how I imagine one would taste. In reality, he kinda tastes like dirt – bad day, fall on your face in mud, dirt.

There's a loud shatter and crack before I realize what's happened; the glass falling about my hair and the weight going completely dead atop me. I can feel a cool smooth surface beneath my touch and I find it to be the whole end of the bedside lamp – I'd _actually_ managed to grab it and strike the President with it in his assault.

_Oh Gaia! Did I kill him?_

I instantly drop what's left of the dark lamp base to the bed and make a gasping noise. I didn't even think about it – _really_ – and I _can't believe_ I just did that. I'm shifting my weight frantically beneath him, trying to worm out to get a better vantage point to asses the damage.

Yuffie is quiet, seemingly just as surprised as I that I'd struck the President of the most powerful army in the world over the head with his probably expensive bedside table lamp.

There's a knock on the closed door.

"Sir?" the infantry man begins, "is everything okay in there?"

_Oh. Shit._


	19. Working Doors

The plan is simple: run away.

Perhaps not the most elegant or organized procedures to ever be carried out, but it's certainly efficient being our chasers had yet to catch us.

I take another corner sharply, nearly dragging Yuffie face first into it; the hall tile cool under my bare feet as we continue our getaway. She curses, throwing a look over her shoulder and speeding up to begin pulling me along. There are several shouts and heavy foot falls after us.

"Do you even know where you're going?" she asks, obviously agitated and pinched red in the cheeks.

We'd been running a good ten minutes - _at least_ – fair to say she wasn't going to get an answer from how winded I was.

We duck into the men's room, empty at the current hour, and hide again in the closest stall; standing up on the toilet with the door against Yuffie's foot.

During our ten minute _escapades_ we'd learned at least _one_ useful thing about the ShinRa tower.

Doors open outwards; which is what helped us escape the bedroom in the first place – draw the guard over with a call, and then have Yuffie take a running start; knocks the guard flat and gives the ninja the upper hand needed.

Forget the rod – the door was looking to be my new calling. Then what could Cloud Strife complain about?

We're holding our breath, waiting for the chasing infantry to enter the bathroom but a minute passes and still it's empty. I hear Yuffie give a sigh of relief.

" _Leviathan_ _,_ it smells like piss in here!"

"It _is_ a bathroom," I say to the other girl between huffs.

"What floor are we on?"

I instinctively glance around for some sort of indicator, but sadly, urinals don't supply much information outside what someone had for lunch; which smelt like asparagus. Not that my answer matters as Yuffie's no longer paying attention as I throw a glance over my shoulder at her. She's gazing up with gray eyes, and following her gaze, I find the source of her silence.

"No clue..."

There's a ventilation opening above, only a thin piece of metal between us and what appeared to be the _mother_ of all air-conditioning units.

"Hey, Aeris," Yuffie asks quietly, still gazing up.

"Yeah?"

"Think we can fit in that?"

I don't like small spaces in the same fashion that I don't like heights. And though the vent looked to surely be able to fit us, I'm honestly, a bit apprehensive.

"I dunno," I mumble.

Yuffie either didn't hear, or entirely didn't care (probably a combination of both) and begins to wedge herself up the bathroom stall walls to reach the vent. Pulling a tool from seemingly nowhere, she begins to strip the screws from the thing, letting them click lightly to the floor below.

"Are you sure about this? What if we come to a dead end?"

What if there are spiders?

"What if we get lost?"

Big ones?

She removes the grate to the floor gently, peaking up into the dark metallic hole and turning her head both directions.

"This looks nice! Come on, Aeris," she echoes, voice reflecting in the air duct. "This is gonna be fun!"

That is entirely the _wrong_ word for how this _entire_ operation is going. But Yuffie (still) seems to care less, disappearing into darkness to suddenly reach her hand down to me.

It's a hard process, in which I feel at once self-conscious as the young girl and I struggle to lift myself into the vent. Yuffie making loud heaving noises and myself trying _not_ to become dead weight – eventually I'm in, but we're both giggling silently, crouched down on our stomachs.

" _Geeze_ Aeris," Yuffie chides, beginning to lead a slow army crawl.

"Not my problem you're so weak that you can't even lift me," I quip back, "Didn't you say you're a ninja."

"I got us into the vent didn't I? How much more ninja could I _possibly_ be right now?"

There's a moment of silence as Yuffie takes us around another corner and deeper into black. About us is the constant hum and tinker of the inner mechanics of the ShinRa tower, a cool breeze passing through us – it's calming in the sense that I'm not trying to escape from people with guns.

"Hey Yuffie," I whisper forward to the darkness.

"Yes?" it asks back.

"What's it like in Wutai?"

I can hear Yuffie continue to make her way through the vent, the soft thud of her limbs on the metal.

"Kinda a funny time to get to know one another, donchya think?"

"Well, I figure there's a good chance we won't make it out of this, so, might as well?"

She chuckles somewhere ahead of me.

"Optimistic, are we?"

"I try."

I smile to nobody.

There's a sudden silence as we round another corner to catch the glint and fall of warm light on metal. My guess is another bathroom vent, but as we begin to draw closer, I can make out distinctive shrills and cackles of laughter. Yuffie stops me with a hand over her shoulder, blocking any good view I would have on the scene below us for a throw of shadows on her profile.

"You think I'm joking?" It's Scarlet - I'm _sure_ of it - and she sounds extremely displeased, " _You think this is one big game_?"

"You're the monsters that are playi-"

Yuffie cringes as there's a hard _smack_ of skin to skin - the soft vocals of before cut off in the hit. And though I can't see below, I _know_ it's Tifa. I push against Yuffie's back to try and get a better glimpse.

" _Excuse me_? Did you call _us_ monsters?"

Scarlet cackles again, and from the small corner I can see, the blonde's head is thrown back and her shoulders shaking in the most horrific laugh I'd ever heard. Yuffie is cringing again, her nose crumpled in distaste.

" _You're_ the sick fucks who caused Sector Seven-"

" _Liar!_ " Tifa cries; the normally warm tone cracking slightly in pitch, " _You filthy liars! How could you do that?_ "

I see Scarlet's arm pull back before the same smack - perhaps louder - silences Tifa; the girl still out of sight.

"Now," Scarlet appears to be rubbing the side of her hand, "where are those little whores?"

"Again," Tifa seethes, "I don't know who you're talking about - _and even if I did_ , why would I know where anyone is? I've been under lock and key, remember?"

"That obnoxious brat we brought you in with - she's escaped-"

"Well good for her," Tifa says smartly, "She has _nothing_ to do with me."

"Even _if_ you're telling the truth - it matters not to me," Scarlet chuckles again, "The public don't care for the truth - anyone with the title of Avalanche slapped on the screen will do."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Scarlet suddenly glances up towards the vent and covers her nose, "I can tell it bothers you."

Yuffie and I both scramble backwards as quietly as possible, fumbling and tangling ourselves as the blonde lets out another shrill cackle and begins to click away into silence.

"I'll be back Lockhart, just need to get some _reinforcements_."

There's a swish of mechanized door (the type that _doesn't_ open outwards) and click of it locking, then silence.

"Cloud," a small voice says, "You're late..."

As _usual_. _They're_ always late.

"Good thing we're on time then," I chime over Yuffie's shoulder, grinning for some unknown reason as Yuffie begins to strip the screws.

"Huh? _Aeris_?"

The vent clatters to the concrete below loudly causing Yuffie to wince and smile sheepishly at my disapproving look. She then goes about lowering me, letting me dangle from the opening before dropping me some feet to the floor. Surprisingly, I _don't_ land on my head.

"H-how did you get in here?"

Tifa's dark hair is matted to the face in caked blood and sweat, her face more gaunt and bruised along the left side with a split lip. Her gunshot is open and looks agitated between Cloud's clumsy stichings, but what's worse, there appears to be a few extra holes along her arm - freash ones still oozing _something_. I approach instantly concerned, touching her forehead and pushing hair away from pale skin.

She _smiles_.

"And more importantly - what the _hell_ are you wearing?"

"Usually people say 'thank you', but okay," I mock, giving a wink and grin, "Now, let's get you outta here."


	20. Pain

I'm _never_ letting her leave me again.

She's bleeding profusely; that much was obvious before closer examination, and now - given the chance - I can finally account the magnitude of her wounds.

 _And it's bad_.

She's dipping out of consciousness, eyes dimmed and half lidded behind bruises. Her arm is twisted a good quarter turn past hyperextension and hangs awkwardly in the plastic cuff, a ball of nerves and tendons strung up the shoulder to disrupt the even flow of flesh. Various holes and tears mark her body, indicating that someone perhaps attempted to skewer her and did a pretty _damn good job_.

I'm _furious_ ; smiling and pushing her hair back with my hands - and likewise - she's smiling right back.

"Where's Cloud?" she asks.

Her skin is bleached with slight tinges of blue along her jaw; the ghastly pallor causing _something_ to stir in my gut. Perhaps it's bile from her smell; which is somewhere between metal and road kill.

"He's coming," I assure, dropping to my knee -in a disgusting dark stain- to test a tug at the plastic ties about her ankles to the base of her seat.

Her legs are dirty, one with a large slab of flesh peeling away from the knee - a wound not of accidental tumble or quick fight. It was deliberate, slow, and technical - the cut just shy the muscle. I gag.

The chair is metal, so snapping it apart is clearly out of the question (not that Tifa could really take a paper one in her condition), the base bolted to the concrete below.

"Got any ideas?" I throw over my shoulder to the teenager.

"Um...Aeris?" Yuffie says quietly.

"Aeris, you need to get out of here," Tifa begins weakly, her voice fading, "Get Cloud - he'll know what to do."

"No," I've moved behind her to start working the cuff tying her wrists together, "I'm _not_ leaving you."

" _Aeris_?" Yuffie tries again.

The cord has no give and I can see deep impressions on her skin beneath. The edge of the plastic eating and etching long fine slices in her wrist in a very _dangerous_ manner.

" _Darnit_!" I curse, pounding the concrete with my fist in a tantrum. My eyes begin to tear a bit at the edge as I stand, back stepping to examine the restraints again - _how the hell am I going to_ -

" _Aeris!"_

" _What_?" I snap, turning suddenly back to Yuffie who has screwed her features up in annoyance.

The teen huffs, and motions to her pointing arm, which happens to point to the opposite wall on Tifa's back.

"Oh. My. _Gaia_..."

I can feel my brow furrow as I cross to the metallic wall, the space covered in rusted hooks and various foreign tools, most with sharp edges. They all hang with some sort of dead stillness, matching dark stains of the floor dabbed along the steel that shines burgundy under the exposed fluorescents.

I'm transfixed as I take in all the shapes and sizes; some constructed with knobs and extra arms, others like metallic claws with curved ends and chunks of _something_ crusted over the tips. And it was my sudden revelation and fear that that _something_ could quite possibly be Tifa.

I grab the most recognizable - a cleaver of sorts - and turn back to the pair. Yuffie's expression is guarded, her eyes still taking in the expanse of torture devises.

I don't realize I'm crying by the time the metal knife connects with the back of the chair's leg, cutting the plastic cord in a small _snap_ sound. My swing leaving a deep impression in the steel structure as I pull back for the next strike at the other leg.

Tifa flinches under the force of my knife, up righting her lolling head an instant before slowly slumping back again. But she's freed, and as I move to help lift her from her seat, she hangs like dead weight against me.

" _No, no, no, no, no - come on, Tifa!"_ I drop the knife to the side with a loud clatter, using my free hands to hold her face and tilt it up to mine, " _Come on, wake up_."

She makes a weak noise in the back of her throat, rolling her eyes back in her skull before blinking several times and opening them to gaze sadly at me.

" _Heh_ , sorry about that," she says, forcing a smile, "Needed a little nap."

"Nap time's over, okay? We gotta go."

I try again to right her on her feet, this time successful as Tifa rises to lean heavily along my body. Her broken arm is left to hang while her good one clutches to the halter strap of my insect costume.

"Yuffie, let's go!"

The teen is frantically pulling metal sorts off the wall and stuffing them into small hidden compartments of her costume.

"Okay, okay- coming."

I'm staggering towards the door - completely denying that this mode of transportation is _not_ going to bode well in our escape.

It's locked.

Of course it's locked - why would it not be? Why would this not be _the one_ door we come across in our escapades that happens to have some mechanized components that relieves it of hinges and knobs - and wood - why should it be easy? Why should we survive? Why would this work?

" _Fuck_!" Yuffie curses, kicking the door once before spinning back to the vent, "Looks like there's only one way out..."

She eyes us, noticing the shallow drag of Tifa's breaths and the dead hang of her limbs. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and swallowing the sob building.

"Quickly," I say, opening my eyes to find the ninja already worming her way back into the abyss above.

I can feel Tifa chuckle lightly as I maneuver us beneath, gazing up into the darkness and waiting patiently for the small hand to appear to begin dragging Tifa upwards.

But it doesn't come.

Tifa seems to get it before me, pushing away and staggering to the closest wall for support. She's moving in the background while I continue to stare up into the innards of the exposed ceiling; the dark air-duct showering me in a cold breeze and stinging my eyes.

No.

"Yuffie," I call - quiet so that perhaps the approaching blonde will not hear me and thus, I can escape in time to the above vent.

No one answers.

"Yuffie?" I try again, a bit louder while I hear the slight slide of steel on concrete behind me.

No one continues to _not_ answer.

" _Yuffie_!"

" _Aeris!"_ Tifa hushes.

"She wouldn't-"

"She did," Tifa says, her voice hallow, but loud, "she left us."

No. She went to get Cloud - _yes_ \- that's it.


	21. Masks

They're dead.

What is left of the Infantry's face is unrecognizable at best - the skull caved in from her sheer force; but she isn't done.

Tifa raises her arm again to strike, stabbing the carcass with as much ferocity as she'd started. The cleaver now a metallic mass of blood gorging on the body as she sets it into the exposed neck again, hacking away at the artery. If she says something, it isn't anything human ears can pick up - but she _is_ making a noise.

And it's screaming in my head, dragging it's nails down the walls of my skull and leaving a _horrid_ taste in my mouth.

I touch my fingers to my lips, but I can't look away from the murder; the reds so vibrant and fluid as she attacks the cavity again.

Again and Again.

The woman - Scarlet - is still on the ground, likely unconscious from the hit she took from the door frame.

"Tifa," I try softly, my voice eaten away by the clatter of the cleaver to the floor, "We should go..."

She stands away from the body of what was the infantry man, her face turned away from the scene, and likewise, me. The length of her good arm is soaked in blood, the drape of her white shirt ruined in her assault. But she isn't done.

She begins to advance on the unconscious woman, taking her up by her neck. My hand instinctively goes to touch her elbow, but I never make physical contact.

"Stop!" I shout, frightening myself more than her with my volume and urgency.

I can still see the tension through her fingers, dark impressions forming along the blonde's neck as Scarlet begins to make a sound in her throat.

"Tifa!" I try again, finally moving the last few inches to touch my skin to hers.

And she's on fire.

Scarlet is instantly dropped to the ground and red eyes turn on me, burning like cigarettes. She's crazed, furious, and wild as we stare - the fatigue and weakness of before replaced by some adrenaline high she'd found upon the entrance of her captors.

Like a switch she had flared up, returning to that monster ShinRa had looped the entire morning. And as she stares into me, human flesh hidden in a coat of crimson, I think to consider that this is the first time I've met a terrorist.

" _Please_ ," I beg to the Terrorist as she approaches slowly, "They're dead."

_All dead._


	22. Apologies

We'd been captured. And I'd liked to say that I fought valiantly – even mildly – against the barrage of infantry men, but all I could do was watch.

Tifa had taken out another four before being brought to her knees.

She'd struck the first so hard across the jaw – that sound. The one of the neck tendons stretching and snapping and breaking. I don't think I'll ever forget how loud it was.

Or the reigning voice over the madness: "Don't shoot it, don't shoot my specimens."

 _Plural_.

I shudder in my cell, bringing my knees to my chest. The room is empty, save for the cot bolted at the wall, and just big enough that I could lay across the concrete floor. If I so desired.

I'd also like to say that I had no idea where we were. But I'm a terrible liar.

" _Aeris_!"

I flinch, but otherwise make no noticeable movement that I'd heard anything. The dark security camera in the corner buzzes as tilts to look at me.

" _Aeris_!" It's Yuffie's voice, being shuffled through the vent behind my ear. " _I can see you, ya know._ "

I hide my mouth behind my folded arms and knees. "What do you want, Yuffie?"

There's silence a moment.

"I'm sorry," she responds, speaking normally now. There's the distant thud of her slumping back on the wall.

"Sorry you left us, or sorry you got caught?" I cringe as the anger burns my throat. I clear it twice.

I hear the faint part of her lips as she opens her mouth to respond before I begin again: "Just _don't_." I sigh. "It's fine, really. I understand and probably would have done the same thing. I'm not mad."

Yuffie snorts. "No, but you're a terrible liar. And you are mad."

I instantly wheel around to look through the vent, forgetting my cover as I peer through the short distance and into Yuffie's shoulder. I can barely make out the flip of her dark hair.

"Well, I think I have the right to be," I say, trying not to whine.

Behind me, the security camera whirls to life.

"No one's saying you don't," she responds dryly, not turning to look at me. "I just was sayin' that – I don't know – I felt _bad_ for doing it." She huffs.

Another stretch of silence.

" _That_ was the worst apology _ever_ ," I finally say.

Yuffie actually laughs, the edge of her shoulder shaking. "Would you believe that I don't have much experience with 'em?" She asks, turning to look at me through the vent.

I smile. "Yep. I can't imagine that _the great ninja Yuffie_ would ever have to practice that skill."

"Power of apology, eh?" she smirks, "Bet that's _your_ ninja skill."

"That and I make an amazing cheese omelet."

Yuffie makes a face. "No offense Aeris, but you're like the worst rescuer ever. Why did Avalanche even hire you?"

I frown and turn away from Yuffie's prying eyes. I'd rather stare into the ShinRa grunt's watching lens.

"I wasn't. I'm not even part of Avalanche," I say quietly.

"What? Then why the hell are you here? How do you know Tifa?"

 _Those eyes_. I wince as the nails draw twisted memories in the inside of my skull.

I shake my head. "I don't, really."

There's a sudden screech as the PA system crackles to life. "Ancient, stand up and place both hands on the wall opposite the door," the voice instructs.

I stand from my cot and give camera in the corner a mock curtsey. "And if I don't?" I shout.

"We will kill the girl."

From the adjacent cell I hear Yuffie shout: "Don't listen to 'em, Aeris. I _freakin'_ dare them to open that door. _Come and get me, asshats_!"

The system flicks back on with another click. "Not that girl," says the voice.

The anger vomits in my throat again and I can feel my expression contorting into a scowl. Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I turn slowly, placing my hands on either side of the vent and gazing through at Yuffie.

Her dark eyes are wide with worry, and she's practically pressed into the grate to get a better look at me. I mouth the words:

"I have a plan."


	23. Plan C

"Take off your clothes."

The infantry guard observes me with a tilt of his helmet. His partner is standing in front of the door.

"Excuse me?" I ask, mortified.

He raises the butt of his rifle, but doesn't strike. "Take off your clothes or we'll do it for you."

There's a chuckle from the door.

They'd escorted me down several long hallways before turning me into a tiled room. The lights were bright in here and the ceiling exposed thin copper tubing of an irrigation system. Every few measured feet a piece would point down to the floor drains in a nozzle.

A shower room.

The far wall had a mirror set into it that ran the length of the room. I could feel _their_ eyes on me.

I find a corner and turn my back to the mirror, beginning to strip from the honeybee costume. My chest is flushed, and my hands shake, but I keep my jaw set firm and don't look at the guards. The fabric pools at my feet and I stand nude, facing the corner.

"Now what?" I ask angrily.

"Pick it up and bring it here. Slowly," he responds. I can hear the smile in his voice.

I grind my teeth. Bending at the knee, I retrieve the outfit and approach the blue suited men with a raised head. I make no move to cover my nakedness, squaring off to the closest officer as I extend the fabric to him.

"Here," I try and say as nonchalantly as possible. "Sorry I didn't fold it for you."

He doesn't hide the once-over with the tilt of his visor, brushing my wrist as he takes the outfit from me. "Thank you, doll."

There's a quiet rumble before the hiss of pipes as the showers spray to life. I turn from him, whipping my hair in his face as I go. Another laugh from the door.

The water is hot – almost painfully so – and threaded with some sort of cleaning chemical, at least, that's what it smells like. I'm huddled more tensely now, scraping away at the stray stains of blood on my arms and face, turning my skin a raw pink. I'm washing the hairspray out when the water shuts off abruptly.

I don't turn to look at the men behind me and instead take an extra moment to wring out my hair. I hear the shift of their boots, but they say nothing.

"Do I get a towel?"

A light piece of cloth is thrown over my shoulder. It's not a towel.

Unlike the honeybee costume, I have no trouble dressing. It's a long rectangle with one hole in the center and several ties along the length, it fits over my head easily and drapes just above the knee. I'm knotting the sides together when I feel the hand on my arm, directing me towards the door.

It leaves less to the imagination than my last outfit; the gaps on the side letting the cool air of the hallway sting my hips. I fold my arms under my biceps for warmth and privacy.

My escort leads me to a thick steel door with red blocked text reading: Science Department. Unlike the offices floors below, this door is a mechanized contraption that only hisses open when both guards swipe their keycards.

It must be sound proof, because I hadn't heard the screaming from the hall until the door unsealed.

"I know a Limit Break when I see one – don't take me for some idiot like Palmer?" Scarlet is back on her feet, pinched red in the face by her shouting. She's screaming at a hunched figure looking through a microscope.

I swallow hard.

"I understand, Miss Vertigo, that it was a Limit Break. I was merely commenting that this…leak, is more your jurisdiction, no?" he doesn't look from his task.

Scarlet reels back and touches the dark bruises on her neck. "I know every subject that was tested for that ability – I _never_ approved any women in that project. _This is on you and your inability to keep your mice on their wheels_."

 _Tifa_. I feel my face betray me as one of the guards turns his visor at me.

Scarlet straightens, coughing, and smoothed her hair. "Fix this."

Hojo finally stands from his work, coming just to the woman's nose as she looks down it at him. He stretches thin lips back into a smile, touching his glasses back to dark eyes.

"Of course, Miss Vertigo. But I have guests," he addresses us with a wave of his hand. Scarlet turns to sneer at me.

Her right eye is swollen shut.

"If I find any of your rats crawling around – well…" she clicks over to me, grabbing my chin firmly and forcing me to look into her face. She's smirking. "I finished the gas chamber prototype this morning, would love to test it out."

Her free hand taps my nose lightly with a long finger.

"Move," she commands, having my escort roughly pull me aside and salute. The door seals shut behind her with mechanical purr.

Hojo is still smiling. "Welcome back," he says (almost) sincerely. "I see you've been cleaned."

I take the moment to take stock of my surroundings. It's almost painful how little it'd changed. This was the main lab, a wide warehouse expanse of polished tile with a steel catwalk around the perimeter. Several stations where position about the floor, all on wheels should Hojo need multiple hands in his tasks. On the far wall were the Mako tanks and equipment stores.

"Everything you remember?" he asks, noticing my observations. He motions with his hands to the metal table closest.

Suddenly, I'm restrained by both sides as the armed guard picks me up and moves towards the table. I begin flailing immediately, reflexively, kicking and clawing at the men.

"I can do it myself," I shout. " _I can do it myself_." I don't recognize the actual tremor of terror that underlines my voice.

Both men let me go with a nod from Hojo. I smooth the front of my gown and walk to the metal table on my own. Its surface is cold on my thighs.

I remember being told to 'sit still and pretty' when he handled the syringe. My feet didn't touch the ground back then. I shudder.

There are other hands bustling about the lab. They appear uninterested in my appearance, but I catch a couple sneaking side glances as they check their beakers and lab results. And it's oddly silent.

The pinch on my arm draws my attention back. The needle is thin but the pain is sharp as the syringe fills with blood. I feel my lips twitch, but give no satisfaction to show pain.

"How have you been, Hojo?" I ask, feigning disinterest.

 _There_. In the furthest back corner by the freight elevator is the sickly glow of an active Mako tank. Unlike the other models, this one was old – I remembered the speech – with a thick encasing shell. Only a single viewing window cast a vibrant wash of green from the tank. The letters: 'Jenova' were melded at the top.

I nod along as the scientist explains his surprise in my curiosity. That the conditions of my absence must have taught me something not previously witnessed in the captivity of my kind. I think he's being polite.

He's working me up for a basic physical. Clicking his tongue whenever he find a bruise or scar and marking it on his chart. It's silent a moment as he scratches with his pen.

"I can make you a deal," I say quietly.

His scratching pauses and he peers over the clipboard at me, his black eyes magnified by his glasses. "Ohh?" he asks curiously. "And why do you think you're in position to make a deal?"

"Because I know what you want."

"Which is?"

He sets his clipboard on the table next to me and gives me his full attention. I take a breath:

"The promise lands."


	24. Bluffs

Tifa taught me how to play poker once. We were upstairs in my bedroom with the door closed. I was terrible at first, unable to bluff through a single hand.

But she was patient with me. Directing with light fingers and a steady gaze.

"The trick is to get inside their heads," she'd explained. "If you know what they want on the river, then you control the pace of the game – likewise, lead them down a trap. Force them to either call your bluff, or back down."

"But how do I make them not call my bluff every time?" I tried not to pout. I hadn't won all night.

"You punish them."

She revealed pocket aces and took the entire pot.

* * *

Hojo observes me with a look that makes the corner of my lip twitch. He stretches his lips for another smile.

"I'm listening, Ancient," he says.

" _Aeris_ ," I correct.

He smiles wider, and I can tell he's itching to make scribbles across his clipboard.

"Aeris," I almost regret that request, my name sounding so contrived on his lips. "What are your terms?"

I hop from the metal table, and try and cheat my height by straightening my posture. "You release my friends – safely – and I'll lead you to the promised lands. Simple as that."

"And how do I know that you're telling the truth? What can you guarantee me?"

"Do my kind lie?"

Hojo laughs. "Your mother did."

I actually flinch this time.

He continues, pacing around me and inspecting. "Your kind lie to serve those you love. Very _curious_." Where his eyes touch itches. "Perhaps you've been out of our protection for too long."

 _Protection_? I bite back the anger, locking my jaw.

"There's a temple," I say. "I hear it…call to me. I can find it, I know I can." The words are stiff through my teeth.

Hojo snaps his fingers, the closest lab hand races over. He's a small man with light brown hair and a hooked nose. He addresses Hojo with a bow.

"Sir?"

"Bring us specimens eight and thirteen."

"Right away."

I feel my stomach drop as the lab hand bustles away. _I have to act fast_.

"What things do you hear?" Hojo asks me, seating himself on the metal table to stare at me. He has his clipboard again.

I glance nervously towards Jenova's tank – _cage_ – in the back corner. His eyes catch mine and he actually claps his hands.

"Oh _yes_ , how very interesting. Tell me, Aeris, what does she whisper?"

The sudden mechanical roar of the elevator fills the lab. Hojo frowns before sitting back and turning an eye at the elevator. The large metal door splits open to reveal more Infantry grunts dragging their specimens.

The first is a bright, red, _cat_ – or a loose variation of the word. It's a large animal whose nails are so long that it clicks as they direct it with a steal collar and pole combination. It gives a low, rumbling, growl as it sets a single, golden, eye on Hojo.

I feel the same way, kitty – _oh my god, it's on fire_.

I stumble back into the waiting hands of my armed escort, his hands gripping painfully on my arms. Hojo laughs. "Don't be alarmed," he says, the flame of the creature's tail reflecting off the lens of his glasses. "It's supposed to do that."

I'm so engrossed with the feline creature that I don't notice the other specimen until she's dropped, face first, in a cleared section of the lab.

Tifa. The grip around my arms tightens.

She's clean now, wearing a gown identical to mine, her wounds treated and dressed. The bruises along her jaw are darker against the fresh ivory of her pallor. My stomach turns again.

She turns on the tile, groaning.

"Let her go, Hojo – I can give you what you want," I begin frantically. " _We_ can finish this in your lifetime, can you imagine? _I can help you_."

Hojo motions a hand to silence me and approaches Tifa's lying form slowly. One of her eyes slides open before snapping shut and contorting in pain.

"Do you know what a Limit Break is, Aeris?" He asks casually, leaning down to Tifa.

My face goes hot and my heart begins to pound. "No," I say. I feel my face contort into a scowl.

He rakes his fingers through Tifa's hair, clearing her face of the ebony strands. "Soldiers are exposed to a high level of Mako to bestow them with supernatural abilities no longer found in normal humans. It's part of what makes them so potent in their line of work."

He traces the line of her cheek.

"The Limit Break is a conditioned safety measure that our Weapons Department instilled. You see, we wouldn't want our secrets of these weapons getting out, so, in the event that one of our Soldiers was to be captured, they would trigger the Limit Break. It's a devastating adrenaline high, like a self-destruct, but such high exposure of that hormone is deadly."

I gasp. "You conditioned them to die? _Your own men_?" I think I'm going to be sick. The lab swings violently in my view as a wave of nausea strikes me.

"Precisely," Hojo tilts his head to look at Tifa. "So you can imagine our predicament, finding a Limit Break in a subject not treated in the project, and one that then failed the directive."

I drop to my knees suddenly, collapsing at the infantry man's worn boots. He doesn't attempt to right me, but gives me space as I clutch my head. The pain is bright, streaking my vision in white, as my head fills with noise.

Somewhere, _something,_ is whispering behind my eyelids.

I make a small noise, collapsing to the cool tile as my body begins to heat up. It burns like fire and I gag on the sensation, trying to flatten myself to the cold floor. Vaguely, I think I feel a sandpaper tongue across my palm.

The voice whispers awful things above Hojo's voice. It hisses for my attention, tugging my conscious to the corner where I know it lays coiled and trapped and waiting – _like a snake_ – to strike. It _begs_ me not to change my mind, and again, I see the door, the outdated alloy wheel exposed.

"Very interesting," Hojo says above my cries. "It appears my theory was correct."

 _Please_ , it coos, easing my pain. There's a hard pressure behind my eyes. I can't see the wheel begin to turn, but I can hear the squeak of the metal as it loosens. The scrape of metal as it begins to spin faster, undoing the lock in a jeer of steam and compression.

 _Punish them_ , it tells me.

Above the echo in my skull I can hear yelling. Maybe an alarm.

"Aeris," a voice says, running a sandpaper tongue across my cheek. "Hang on."


	25. Goodbyes

The alarm is earsplitting loud. It repeats, in a mechanical voice: " _Science floor emergency. Please evacuate to the nearest exit."_

There are only two voice above me though. The back of my eyelids flash red.

"What the hell was that thing?" hisses Tifa.

I try to open my eyes but am blinded by a white, burning, pain. I immediately groan and turn. Her hand touches my face.

"Well, from observation, I would say that that _thing_ was a specimen known as Jenova. As for what that entitles, I am unsure."

Another voice. Low and smooth, distinctly male. There's a chime of metal and a swish of hair. The sandpaper tongue runs over my palm again, a cold nudge at my fingers.

"Are you strong enough to carry her?" he asks.

"Not down fifty flights of stairs," there's an echo to her volume now. I can picture the stairwell, long cascades of the concrete beneath me.

I make a small noise in the back of my throat and grope blindly towards her. I can't quite get my mind around the words, the wind knocked from my lungs. What did happen?

"Aeris? Can you stand?" Tifa asks, her hands clasp around mine. I can feel the raised scar across her left palm.

There's a commotion below us, the distant echo of footsteps. And gunfire.

I'm suddenly hoisted upwards; Tifa's shoulder sets square in my gut as I fall limp across her back. I try to be helpful, but the best I can manage is another small sound.

There's the scratch of claws as we ascend. I bounce with each step, and I can tell she's taking them by two.

"There's no fucking time for that, Spike – now get your ass in here before I leave your skinny tail."

We immediately stop; Barret's baritone ringing clear above the alarm. There's a spray of gunfire before the slam of a door.

"Cloud," Tifa yells. I feel the swish of air as we turn. "Cloud!"

I'm set gently back to an even floor.

"Tifa?" It's Jessie, I know the tell-tale slap of her leather boots. "Oh my god – _what are you wearing_?"

I try again for my eyes. An emergency light is flashing red, tinting the stairwell; it's suspiciously empty save for us. Jessie is clasped around Tifa in a hug, the ginger haired girl standing on her toes to reach.

Barret is just coming up the steps, a look of relief flooding him as he folds his arms. Cloud is behind his shoulder, smiling.

"You're late," Tifa says over Jessie's head.

Cloud smiles brighter. "Looks like I'm just in time, actually."

She'll spare him that story.

As my vision focuses, I can make out Biggs and Wedge coming up the steps, and the feline creature from the lab sitting up the steps a ways. Barret regards it with his prosthetic:

"The hell is that?"

All heads turn to the beast, its gold eye blinks once – or perhaps winks – before it flicks its tail.

"Who is that, would be more correct," it says.

"It talks," Jessie exclaims, dropping to her knees before the orange cat. She extends her hand.

"He can introduce himself – but he's a friend. He helped us escape," Tifa says.

The cat gives a bemused tilt of his head before touching his nose to the tips of Jessie's fingers. "Nanaki is my name, pleasure. But may I suggest we hold off introductions till we escape?"

"I like the cat already – okay fruits, you heard the furball. What's the plan of action?" Barret addresses the group with authority, surveying each head. He stops on me. "The hell is wrong with pinkie?"

"A rather curious turn of events actually, it appeared that Aeris telepathically-"

"She fell and hit her head," Tifa interjects, silencing Nanaki's explanation. Barret gives her a look but makes no comment.

"The lobby has a mako engine museum," Cloud begins. "When I was in training for Solider, I helped load the vehicles in that room, and I know they work because rookies have to scrub them. They're powered by Materia, so we get them to start up."

Jessie claps her hands together. "That's _brilliant_ , Cloud. We'll ride out of ShinRa tower faster than anyone can chase!"

Barret shakes his head. "Out the front fucking door? Are you shitting me? They'll have an armed guard waiting and blow us to pieces before we get around the corner."

"Actually," Cloud starts again, "it's a show room that faces the main highway; advertising. It can't be more than a ten foot drop."

"You want to launch a car fulla us out a ten foot drop onto a highway – while ShinRa shoots at us?"

Cloud nods. "Sounds about right."

They level each other with a look. Barret's complexion splits open with a smile: "Sounds like fun."

Nanaki is the first to move, bounding from his seat through the group. "Let's be off then," he says, starting down the stairwell.

"Yuffie," I croak. It's the first thing I can get my vocals around, fitting the syllables of her name through the cords. I clear my throat and try to stand. "We can't leave Yuffie."

I look expectantly to Tifa, her eyes already on me.

"The hell?" Barret asks.

"She's still in the cells," Tifa helps steady me by my elbow. "I can't leave her there. They'll kill her."

Cloud steps forward to take my other arm, they hoist me to my feet. "Aeris," he starts, sweeping some hair behind my ear – I stumble once. "We don't have time, we don't know where to even begin-"

"I do."

Both of us turn to Tifa. "I know where the cell block is. I memorized the layout. I know how they work, I can get her."

I think the veins in Barret's neck are going to pop. " _Are you out of your fucking mind_? We just _saved_ your ass. You're the _least_ qualified person for a rescue party."

Tifa doesn't shy away like the rest of Avalanche. She stands taller, tipping her chin to meet the large man. "I'm the fastest. And I know I can do this better than anyone else. Go to the lobby, I'll meet you there – 20 minutes. Tops."

Barret flexes his fingers, staring her down with dark eyes. Eventually he sucks over his teeth and spits over the railing. "20 Minutes, Lockhart." He sets a large hand on her crown and messes her hair.

Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge take their turn to embrace – at once – in a group hug. "Don't die," they chime collectively.

Cloud simply nods.

As she gets to the exit of the stairwell, I suddenly reach for her, brushing her shoulder with my fingertips. She turns to look at me with scarlet eyes, a stoic expression masking her curiosity. I can feel their eyes on the side of my face, but I ignore it, pushing into her personal space.

I pause, inches from her face – close enough to trace the purple rim around her pupil – and pull dark strands of her hair away from her mouth. And then I kiss her.

Its brief; a simple touch of lips, but I can feel the corners turn up in a smile as I pull apart.

"Don't die," I say. "Please."

Tifa nods once, then exits out into the hallway. And in an instant as tiny as our affection, she's gone. Again.


	26. Souvenir

No one says anything; we move in silence down six flights of stairs. I'm at the back, gently being ushered along by Cloud's hand in the small of my back, but I'm winded, struggling around the air.

The mechanical voice of the alarm has since been cut. Occasionally, gunfire can be heard from the concrete shell of the stairwell.

Jessie is fidgeting, swiveling her head over the railing and towards every passing floor door; expecting.

But no one enters.

"Here," Cloud whispers over the group. He motions towards the nearest door with a large "L" decaled in the center. "It'll be to the right – about forty feet."

Barret takes the point and backs next to the wall, cracking the door ajar, and peers out.

"We've lost contact with the entire floor?"

"The entire _tower_. Commander is grouping a party to scout our own goddamn headquarters."

"What in the hell happened up there?"

Two patrol men – _grunts_ – fitted in the navy of the police unit. They're standing just aside the stairwell, in-front of the elevators, with their issued rifles at the ready.

The closest one shakes his visor. "Orders are code black – shoot anything that doesn't identify itself as ShinRa personnel. I'm guessing terrorist, what with those Avalanche shitheads blasting around."

"I heard it started in the Science Department though."

Barret turns to meet Cloud's gaze. He makes a vague, violent, motion with his hands that I don't understand, but causes Cloud to nod and touch the handle of his blade. Jessie audibly gulps.

Her sound is masked by the chime of the elevator.

"The hell?" The patrol officer exclaims. They inspect the metallic doors with the point of their rifles, the illuminated numbers above burn bright. "The basement? Who the fuck is down there?"

They both turn their backs to my vantage point over Barret's shoulder, stepping back from the doors and lining up their sights. "No one's supposed to be using the elevator."

"Got it," his partner responds. He takes another step back.

The door chimes again, signaling its intent to open. I can just make out the bright fluorescents of the interior from around the men's frames, but the occupant is blocked from view.

"Hands in the air!" One of the officer's commands. "Identify yourself now or we'll shoot!"

Cloud pushes me aside suddenly, making for the door before Barret quickly clutches to his shoulder, forcefully pulling him back. The two exchange a heated look; Barret's fingers flex.

"Evening, gentlemen," says a male voice in a smooth tone. My arm suddenly breaks into gooseflesh. "Might you know where I can find the president?"

" _I said hands up, fucker! Now identify yourself!"_

"No? That's a shame-"

Anything else that's said is cut off by the rapid spittle of bullets, the two officers immediately opening fire. Cloud makes another attempt to bolt, kicking the stairwell door open and getting two steps before the larger man tackles him to the marble.

Jessie yells something over the gun fire, but all I see is her pointed finger.

The man in the elevator is closer to seven feet than six, with long, sharp, features, and silver hair. His green eyes flash bright in the reflection of the gunfire – a _curious_ expression dilates the pupil. The bullets begin to build up in back of the elevator, riddling the mahogany panels in holes and smoke.

The man stands attentive, unharmed and bored in the center of it all.

Eventually the rifles sputter empty, the silence more a shock to my system than the assault.

" _Get the fuck off of me_ ," Cloud shouts, incredibly loud. He tries again to wrest from Barret, the black man holding tight as they both stare across the floor at the silver-haired man.

For a moment, I feel his eyes on me, the gooseflesh on my arm prickles instantly. Sanguine green of eyes so familiar yet doused in hatred of something so foreign. General Sephiroth smiles at me from the elevator before decapitating the two infantry men in a wide sweep of his blade.

I'm not sure how I caught it, time seeming to slow before the body cavities burst in a spray of blood and collapse to the tile.

It's an impressive and controlled flick of the blade to sheath the weapon, one that Sephiroth accompanies with an exaggerated glance to his right, then left. Seemingly uninterested in us, he steps back into the elevator and presses a button.

Cloud gets free now, scrambling to his feet and bolting for the doors as they begin to close. Sephiroth merely smiles as the metal seals closed, causing Cloud to collide into the doors. He curses, immediately slamming his fist onto the call button for the elevator.

Nothing happens. The small, illuminated, dial above the doors begins to count upwards.

" _FUCK_!" He shouts, enraged to the point that his face is violently flushed.

"I thought he was dead," Jessie says quietly. She's standing in the pooling blood of the bodies, staring as the tobacco of her boots dye red.

I think I'm going to be sick.

Nanaki's nose touches the tips of my fingers, I turn to see him looking up at me curiously. His tail flicks.

"Are you feeling well, Aeris?"

I touch my head, my skin is tender, causing me to flinch. My intake of breath attracts Biggs and Wedge to notice. They move to touch my shoulder:

"Aeris?"

" _The fuck you gonna do, Spike?_ Run up the stairs to catch him?" Barret makes a point to shove Cloud with the point of his gun-hand.

Cloud sizes up to the challenge, shoving Barret. "You don't know _anything_ ," he spits down at the man. "So stay out of it."

My knees suddenly give out, Biggs catching me thankfully. "We have to leave," I say, choking through the pain as my vision cuts white. Again, the pressure of a white iron pressing into the back of my skull. "She's coming – someone is coming or is already here…"

It's so loud. "It's too loud."

A smaller hand touches my forehead. Jessie: "She's burning up, we need to get her out of here. Which way to those vehicles?"

I steady myself with Biggs help, brushing Jessie's hand away politely. "I'm fine, really." I fake the smile. Nanaki moves closer, his single eye scrutinizing. "But we do need to make our exit."

And on cue, the elevator hums to life again, the bright chime signaling its intent to open. Cloud springs into action, motioning to clear everyone to the side and helping Barret from the floor. The larger man says nothing of their spat, understanding Cloud's intent and taking position with the blond at the side of the doors.

Jessie yanks me backwards with the boys, putting us safely out of the line of fire. Barret readies his aim, the group silencing as the doors chime again and begin to open.

The elevator is empty.

The back wood paneling is still riddled with bullet holes, but the box opens to an empty stretch of white tile – _no_ – from the corner, just out of view, a pool of dark blood is building. Someone is huddled against the control panel to hide.

"Please don't shoot, I come in peace," says a bright voice.

I sigh. "Don't shoot, it's a friend."

Yuffie's face peers from the _top_ of the elevator, somehow having suspended herself from the ceiling. I can see her eyes wrinkle in the corners as the tell-tale of that grin. She drops to the floor in an agile twist.

" _What the fuck?_ **"** The girl instantly rights herself away from the carnage Sephiroth had left. "What is holy hell is that?"

Cloud straightens from his battle stance. "Where's Tifa?"

"Present," says a faint voice.

I don't realize I'm moving until I'm halfway into the hanging box, finding Tifa leaning against the control panel and breathing shallowly. She's flushed along her neck, her long hair dried with blood and soaked along the crown in sweat.

She smiles nonetheless.

"I think I'm a little late. Found a souvenir."

Clenched to her breast and held vertical to her position is the Masamune.


	27. Sunday Drives

"We turned the corner and _WAM_! Tifa just plants the guy like a _freakin' ninja_!" Yuffie punctuates her point with a violent jerk of her fist. "I've never seen someone take a hit like that. I thought his stupid face was gonna fall off."

Tifa Lockhart rolls her eyes in response. Making quick work to strip the fallen infantry men of their clothes. She's already pulled the bloodied pants, and is shamelessly revealing a _lengthy_ expanse of skin in the process.

" _You punched Sephiroth_?" Jessie exclaims loudly. " _In the face?!_ "

The lobby was still eerily vacant. Barret had taken it upon himself to disable the elevator with some more _physical_ means. Biggs and Wedge had barricaded the stairway doors with rope. Cloud had the sword, staring down the blade in silence.

And I was just standing in the middle of it all catching an uncomfortable draft.

"She probably killed the guy for how hard his neck swung around," Yuffie continues.

Tifa throws the other fallen infantry's pants at me. "I didn't kill him," is all she adds before she begins to untie the side of her gown. Her fingers are slow and clumsy with the work, unpracticed and stale due to her injury.

I think a moment too long about helping before Jessie approaches her.

I am suddenly incredibly focused on the straps of the infantry regulation trousers. I hadn't expected the scar.

Maybe she really had died.

When I glance again, Jessie is buttoning up the front of the shirt while Tifa is tucking the ends into the pant and tightening with the belt. The uniforms are ill fit, but I can tell Tifa is pleased with a few practiced cuts in the air.

"We need to move," she finally says.

There's a solemn nod before Cloud takes the lead, directing us into a side room. _Technological Museum_ is printed in bold letters across the doorframe. It's a square room with little floor space, most of it taken up by large platforms with various craft models. In the center – the crown jewels – a full functional mako engine pickup truck and two mako-cycles.

"This better fuckin' work, Spike," Barret says, approaching the truck. He makes curt motions, directing Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie to the cabin before running up into the bed of the truck. He pounds the roof of the pistachio vehicle: "Let's move!"

Yuffie wrinkles her nose. "I think he's gonna put us over the weight limit."

Cloud makes it a point to carefully store the Masamune alongside Barret. There's a wordless exchange with the larger man before he turns to Yuffie, nodding towards the adjacent bike: "Ride with me."

"Hell yeah!"

I'm less enthused as I notice Tifa examining the other one. "You're not thinking of riding that, are you?"

She flicks her eyes up to me and I can see the slightest twitch in the corner of her lip to hide the grin.

My stomach sinks.

"Might I suggest we make haste?" Nanaki chimes, leaping into the back of the truck alongside Barret. He makes a point to curl himself in the back corner.

In response, the truck suddenly hums to life, Jessie exchanging high fives in the cabin. "Works great – I suggest offensive magic!"

It's then that we begin to hear the tell-tale of gunfire echoing from beyond the lobby. Biggs easing the truck off its platform and reversing towards the back wall – facing the wall-to-ceiling windows. It'll be an impressive drop to the asphalt below of the highway.

Cloud clears the platform and any other obstacles with impressive ease, creating a decent runway for the vehicles. He tosses a green orb to Tifa before seating himself at one of the bikes and demonstrating how to power the machine.

It's a simple enough contraption on the top that grips the materia where a normal fuel tank would be. In seconds, she has the machine roaring to life.

Tifa Lockhart turns to me with a grin: "Want a ride?"

No. "Do I have a choice?"

More gunfire. "Not many."

I slide onto the back carefully, being sure to entangle myself safely. She's surprisingly thin around the waist.

"If we get separated head to Kalm. Get out of the city!" Cloud shouts over the roar.

"Let's get this show on the road, gun it!"

It's somewhat anti-climatic as the pick-up is slow to gather speed. The engine hisses in protest, but crashes into the glass with enough force to completely shatter the frame. It's one terrifying moment as we all watch the truck teeter out of vision before the _boom_ of the below asphalt.

Another second and we can see the truck cruising up the empty highway.

Cloud and Tifa exchange a smile before she picks up her foot and releases the clutch.

 _I'm going to die_.

I'd never felt the sensation of falling, truly, free-falling.

It felt nauseating.

We touch down to the pavement with a jarring bump and I clutch to her back and shield my eyes. It's only a moment before the roar of the engine is tearing the wind through my hair. _It's so loud_. I have to squint my eyes to keep them open, gaining the courage to peer over Tifa's shoulder as we easily walk up to the pistachio colored truck.

Barret doesn't acknowledge me as we pull alongside and instead readies the gun grafted to his arm. He holds fast to the side of the pickup and spits off several rounds. The gunfire is a light _tap-tap_ above all the noise.

And then it's returned.

Tifa immediately veers away from the vehicle, practically laying the bike flat as we gather speed. I can only tighten my grip around her waist – any noise I make is lost to the wind.

Pulling out of the turn, the engine gives a powerful pull as we rocket ahead of the truck. Cloud and Yuffie are across the lanes, Yuffie turned around to examine the scene while Cloud stares directly at us – _Tifa_. He nods.

 _Oh no_.

Tifa sets her foot down with the brake, turning the bike wide to face back down the asphalt _towards_ the gunfire. Across the way, I can see Cloud making a similar arch.

"Are you both out of your fucking-" anything else Yuffie was going to say is immediately lost as the bikes lurch forward again, sprinting to hit top speed.

" _What are you planning to do?_ _ **Ram them**_ _?"_ I shout into her ear.

There's a small squeeze around my wrist.

That's _exactly_ what we did.

* * *

**Originally Published in 2009 and now abandoned; apologies. Moved from FFnet for your enjoyment. Cheers.**


End file.
